Light in the Darkness
by Echoes of Shadows
Summary: Chaos and devastation have wreaked the world, leaving millions dead and civilisation in shatters. Lovino Vargas only wanted to keep his family safe. Feliks Lukasiewicz's concern was to find his missing boyfriend. But, as they encounter intelligence agents, austere lords and a suspicious band of ex-criminals, they find that dark plots run deeper than they ever would have thought.
1. Chapter 1

Chaos. The alarm had been risen less than an hour ago, and the city was in a rush to escape the danger. Streets were jammed with traffic beyond the worst rush hour, and the pavements chock with people desperately trying to get themselves and their possessions out. The noise and screaming was deafening.

Lovino clutched tightly to Feliciano with one hand, and his grandpa with the other. His school backpack, now full of clothes, food and the few items precious to Lovino, was strapped firmly over his shoulders. A single thought ran through his mind - get out before it was too late.

He tried to quell the panic rising in his heart and the claustrophobia beginning to grip his brain. People - hundreds of them - ran past, packed tighter than sardines and yet still managing to move at an impossibly hurried pace.

Romulus Vargas, being stronger than most despite being nearly sixty, was able to make headway through the confusion by sheer force. But it was still slow going, and Lovino could only see him and their progress by the occasional gap he forged. Terror was suspended in the air like a blanket, suffocating and choking.

The threat hung over everyone's heads, and most didn't even know what had caused it.

Romulus flicked his head back briefly towards his grandsons. "You two alright?" Lovino was barely able to hear his voice, but nodded in response. There was a breathless 'Ve' from behind them as Feliciano registered the question.

There was a sudden, sharp bang, perhaps a few streets away, perhaps a car backfiring, but it sent the surrounding people into impossible panic. They surged in all directions, the noise level and force exponentially rising. Lovino found himself bludgeoned by bodies, threatening to pull him away. With a burst of adrenaline, he stood his ground and focused only on following his grandpa.

"Fratello!" Feliciano's voice called desperately behind him. Lovino's head snapped back urgently, just in time to see his brother's auburn hair disappear into a group heading in the other direction. His eyes widened in panic, and he tightened his grip on his brother's hand, but it was futile. Feliciano's slim fingers slid out of his own. Lovino snatched back at them, but found only air. His brother was nowhere to be seen.

"Grandpa!" he yelled above the din. "Feliciano's gone! We have to go back, damn it!"

His grandfather stopped suddenly and looked back, determination replaced only by worry and fear. It was the first time Lovino had seen his grandpa that way, and it scared him worse than any deadly fate. Romulus's brown eyes twitched as he realised time was against them, and he was given an impossible choice. People flowed past in both directions around the pair, but they seemed background now, like they didn't even exist.

"Lovino." He placed both hands heavily on his grandson's shoulders and spoke urgently. "Get out. At all costs, get out. Don't look back, don't focus on us, don't follow me. Just get yourself out. If everything goes wrong and we can't find you, head for the capital. I'll meet you there, I promise. Remember, don't follow me. Get out." He paused and looked at Lovino with a heartbreaking expression. "I love you, Lovino." He briefly kissed his grandson on the forehead and charged back into the crowd.

"Grandpa!" Lovino yelled desperately, his heart twisting in knots. But Romulus was gone, swallowed by the mob. His final words echoed in Lovino's head, the only thought that wasn't torn in confusion. He sprinted forward, an explosion of punches and profanity desperately searching for an escape route.

After what seemed like forever, Lovino was out. The buildings and crowds were behind him, the latter tumultuously running up the motorway out of the city. The grass around it had long since been turned to mud beneath hundreds of feet.

Driven only by the little adrenaline left in his system, he pulled himself up a small hillock about a mile from the city edge and turned back. His legs felt about to collapse and his breath came as a panicked rasp.

Smoke rose between some of the buildings, and the chaos was evident even from a distance. The shouting and panic was still audible, but more as a background noise, like interference.

_Where__ were __Feliciano __and__ Grandpa?_ Lovino spun around again and hurriedly scanned the escaping crowd. Nothing. No auburn-haired happy-go-lucky little brother. No tough ageless Romulus. Just a faceless horde.

_But__ they__'__d __still __have __got __out, __right?_ There was still time. Lovino didn't have a watch, and he didn't know how long he stared and the crowd for, targeting and dismissing every face.

A soft whistling noise broke off his concentration and Lovino turned back to the city behind. A white fluffy trail was cutting swiftly across the sky, headed by a thin grey tip. Dread clutched at Lovino's chest, and his breathing cut off.

Time seemed to slow almost to nothing as the grey cylinder descended into the middle of the buildings, still leaving the white smoky trail behind it. For a moment, the world halted. Even the wind and shouting had died. Utter stillness.

Then the skyline lit up in a blaze of crimson and orange fire.

Strong towers and feeble lean-tos alike were annihilated instantly as the fire rippled outwards in its unstoppable slow-motion silence. Light and shadow flickered in its wake, a terrible, heart-rending devastation. Smoke billowed into the sky in thick grey waves.

Lovino stared at the destruction, unable to comprehend, unable to breathe. The world spun. Tears sprang to his eyes. _Feliciano __and__ Grandpa __made __it __out,__ right? __They __had__ to__ have...they__ had __to__ have._

He'd gone numb. His vision was blurred with tears and shock. He couldn't think.

Then the shockwave and noise of the explosion battered into him, slamming him to the ground, ramming his ears, his head, his heart. He sensed the tears on his face evaporate in the intense heat, and felt with a dull painful certainty that his family was dead, just before the blackness swept in and took him.


	2. Chapter 2

Thick dust hung heavy in the air, glinting orange in the fading evening light. It drifted slowly in the cool breeze, sweeping up the gentle slope of the hill and over the dead brown grass carpeting the ground. Some caught an updraft, spiralling up, and eventually settling on the hair of the lone boy stood partway up the hill, which was already a mess of various brown shades.

The dust covered much of his clothing too; the original blue colour of his jeans and the mauve of his jacket were barely distinguishable. His face was smeared with mud and dust, save for thin tracks down his cheeks.

Lovino looked out across the vast, empty landscape with desolate amber eyes, rimmed with red. The horizon was lined with rubble and the charred remains of what had once been a proud city. His city. Less than a week ago it had been his home - a vibrant hub of lively social exchange, and the one place that always had seemed constant. But that was all gone now.

He shook himself sharply, trying to break free of the despair that had been clinging to him for the past four days. There was nothing left there now. He had to leave. He'd already left it far too long, searching the city far beyond the point it had become a ghost town. Everyone else - such as they were - had already left.

Tearing his eyes away from his old home for the last time, he picked up the grubby backpack sitting by his feet and slowly walked off. The capital. It was his one last ray of hope now, if hope still remained. He didn't even know if the capital was still there.

Just beyond the bottom of the hill was a road. It too was covered in the plaguing dust - it looked closer to a dirt track as opposed to the tarmacked motorway it had been only a few days ago. Footsteps cluttered the width of its six lanes, intermingled with the tracks of the few vehicles that had survived. The dividing barrier in the centre was almost gone, the few sections remaining studded with dents and cracks. A burned out car stood abandoned on the grass verge a few yards away.

Lovino stumbled down the small hill onto the road, kicking up puffs of dust in his wake. His footsteps seemed unnaturally loud in the deathly silence.

Feliciano. Grandpa.

Once more tears began to track a pathway down his face. Pain arced across his head and clenched tightly at his chest. His vision spun. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe...he...

It was hitting him again. It had hit him several times a day, ever since the explosion. He couldn't get over it. The impossible-to comprehend fact that he was alone. The only people he knew or cared about were dead. He'd never see them again.

Gone. All gone.

The pain drove him to his knees as he gasped for air. Blackness flickered around the edges of his vision, but, for the first time, unconsciousness didn't take him.

Lovino lay collapsed in the dirt with his eyes closed, unable to move. He didn't care what happened to himself now. If he died, at least he'd be with Feliciano and Grandpa.


	3. Chapter 3

It was sometime after dawn the next day when his silent solitude was broken. Steady thudding noises reverberated through the ground next to his ear. Footsteps, at a guess.

They gradually got closer. Lovino didn't think whoever it was would go near him. A boy lying motionless on the ground, covered in dust. He looked like a corpse. He wouldn't even go near himself, if he could see him. Not that he cared if anyone else cared about him.

But suddenly, they stopped. A curious voice sounded quietly nearby. "Hey, it's a person." The speaker had a peculiar accent.

The footsteps sounded closer again, until the person was right next to him. Lovino kept his eyes shut and didn't move, hoping they'd go away.

He felt himself being gently nudged, perhaps with the tip of a foot.

"Hey, are you, like, alive?" The voice asked, still nudging Lovino. "Hello?"

"Go away," Lovino replied, when it became clear the poking wasn't stopping. His voice sounded hoarse, like it was far away and belonged to someone else.

"Ah, you are there," said the voice, and Lovino heard its owner crouch down. "You, like, ok? You're gonna die if you just keep lying there."

"I don't care, damn it," Lovino growled, still with his eyes closed.

"Aw, come on. That's no way to act. Sure, things are, like, bad now, but they're totally gonna pick up." There was a slight note of concern in the stranger's voice.

"What part of 'go away' don't you understand?" Lovino sat up and glared at the intruder. They were about his own age, with bright green eyes and a shoulder-length mop of disheveled blond hair, covered in dust and grime like his own. Despite their mannerisms, they seemed to be male.

The stranger smiled at him. "There's, like, no point in lying around. Aren't you, like, going somewhere? Nothing much seems to be here, y'know."

"I've got my reasons, damn it," Lovino snapped. He was getting increasingly annoyed that this guy wasn't taking a basic hint. "I'm going to the capital. There. Now you know. So screw off."

His obvious hint was also brushed aside. "The capital! Awesome! I'm totally going there too! Let's, like, go together! Yeah! It's been days since I've met someone to talk to!" The stranger grinned, obviously pleased with his idea.

Lovino grimaced. Dumbass. He had to open his big mouth to an idiot like this. He'd never met someone who used so many exclamation marks in regular speech. There was only one way out now. He quickly stood up and marched away. Couldn't get more obvious than that.

"Hey, like, wait up!" the guy called behind him. Lovino scowled again as he caught up. "I know you totes don't know me, but I'm not gonna kill ya. We're, like...I dunno...travelling partners or something. Yeah. Awesome. So, like, who're you?" He seemed oblivious to both blatant hints and Lovino's growing irritation.

"Get lost, you bastard," Lovino muttered, sick of his new company already, even if it had gotten him moving again.

"Whoa! That's gotta be, like, the weirdest name I've heard! But it's totally cool. I'm Feliks. Feliks Łukasiewicz. So, like, what -"

"SHUT UP!" Lovino yelled, finally losing it. All the emotion pent up inside him finally let itself out in anger. "What the hell is with you! Cities have been destroyed, people have been killed and it's like a bloody war! And you're still happy? WHAT THE HELL! YOU CAN'T BE HAPPY WHEN EVERYTHING AROUND YOU HAS GONE, DAMN IT! Some people just want to be left alone with their life, what remains of it! But you butt in and can't take a damn hint to get lost! Where the hell do you get off, bastard!"

Feliks shrunk back, all the brightness gone from his face. He looked almost terrified. "I'm...I'm sorry," he muttered, voice trembling. He blinked hard, fighting tears.

"Yeah, you should be, damn it," Lovino growled, trying to hide the guilt gnawing at his mind for making someone unhappy. He hadn't meant to snap. He just didn't know what to do.

Feliks stared at the ground, hair flopping in front of his face. "I just saw you on the ground and thought you might, like, be hurt or something. Liet's always trying to get me to be nice to people I don't know, so I thought...well..." His voice cracked and petered out.

"Hmmph," replied Lovino, but his anger was now half-hearted. He just felt sad and empty now. Feliks...if he was honestly trying to be nice, well, he could use at least someone to yell at. In a vague sort of way, he reminded him of Feliciano - happy and persistent.

The two stood in awkward silence for a few minutes, neither wanting to be the first to move. Eventually, Lovino scuffed the floor with a dust covered Converse and turned away slightly.

"Er, well...I'm going. To the capital." He paused for a second. "If you...er...I won't kill you if you follow. Bastard," he added as an afterthought.

Feliks looked up and smiled slightly. "'K. So, we're, like, going?"

"Whatever," Lovino shrugged and set off walking up the ruined highway. Feliks kept pace a few feet away, still silent, and occasionally shooting Lovino uneasy glances. He seemed afraid that Lovino would explode again if he spoke.

Lovino himself was confused out of his mind again. He'd been lying on a road after giving up on life, met someone new, lost his temper with them, then immediately made friends and headed on a mission with them. And all within the space of five minutes. It was so unlike him. How much damage had everything done to his brain?

He trudged onward in silence, trying to get his thoughts in a sort of order instead of tangled knots. Gradually the city behind faded out of view, and the dead, dust covered fields disappeared, replaced by a vast expanse of viridescent grass. Under the slowly-growing sunlight, it seemed almost picturesque. Lovino found his eyes stinging again and looked away. His family was dead. Nothing should have colour.

They'd been walking for perhaps an hour or so when Feliks broke the silence between them.

"Do you, like, know how far it is to the capital?"

Lovino frowned. He knew how far it was in miles, but not in terms of how long it took to walk.

His thoughts were broken again by Feliks. "Eep! Don't yell at me again! Please!" Lovino turned to see Feliks with his hands in front of his face. He must have misinterpreted the scowl. Damn. There was more to this friendship thing than he bargained for. He sighed.

"I'm not going to yell at you again, damn it. I'm just thinking," Lovino sighed exasperatedly.

Feliks dropped his hands and looked sheepish. "Oh. Hehe. Sorry."

"It's a hundred and fourteen miles to the capital from my city. Don't know how long it'll take to walk though. At least three days."

"Crap," replied Feliks. "I've already been walking that long, and I live, like, only about thirty miles thataway." He waved his hand vaguely in the other direction.

"Ten miles a day?" Lovino asked incredulously. "The hell? How badly can you get lost?"

Feliks shrugged. "Like, a lot. My sense of direction totally sucks. That's another reason why I was wanting to talk to you."

Lovino wasn't really sure how to respond to this. What even was the first reason? Oh yeah, being friendly. He decided instead just to stick his hands in his pockets and stare at the distant horizon.

A/N: Wow this is taking some getting used to on this site. But oh well. Anyway, introducing the latest crack duo - Lovino and Feliks! (Please note this is not a pairing :P)


	4. Chapter 4

The road flitted between dust and tarmac as they moved between damage zones. Bright sunbeams moved across the sky as first afternoon and then evening passed. Birds twittered in the trees near the road, and Lovino even saw a squirrel scamper across a field. But there was still no sign of other people, and no civilisation save the ruins of another city that burned on the distant horizon.

Feliks had seemed more relaxed after their second conversation, but he was still reluctant to speak. Except for a brief exchange when they decided to stop for a meal in the afternoon and Feliks' occasional whistling, neither had said a word. The silence ultimately got to Lovino, who had been thinking deeply about friends. He'd never seemed to have had many. Feliciano was always the popular one.

"What's Liet?" he asked, as a way of initiating conversation. Feliks had mentioned a Liet earlier and it seemed a point that didn't involve discussion of pasts.

Feliks' face lit up. Lovino could tell he'd come across one of Feliks' favourite topics. "_What__'__s_ Liet? You mean, like, who's Liet? Liet's like, the best person ever! He's really nice, and kind, and he listens to me instead of telling me to shut up, and he's really smart, and helps me with stuff and he's totally awesome!" He stopped himself from rambling and grinned. "But, like, totally don't tell him I said that, 'k?"

Lovino looked at him incredulously. He'd just spoken a load of compliments about someone without thinking, and meant every word. This guy really did remind him of Feliciano. _No.__I__can__'__t__think__about__Feliciano!_

"If he's so great, why isn't he here?" Lovino quickly reverted to his usual defence, impertinence, before the sadness escaped the wall he was trying to shut it behind.

"Huh?" Feliks blinked. "Well, he was outta town visiting friends before the 'splosions, so we couldn't, like, escape together, which totally sucked. But I text him after, and he said he was 'k and he'd meet me in the capital, 'cos it's, like, easy to get to and stuff. I'd call him, but my phone's been outta batteries. Total bummer, I know. You don't happen to keep a socket with you, do you?"

"What?" This last comment had completely lost Lovino. It made no sense in the conversation's progression.

"You know, like a power socket. I got the charger, but no electricity."

Lovino shook his head. _Really?_ "You can't carry electricity with you, you dumb bastard. Except for batteries. But I don't have those."

"Crap," Feliks said. "Aw well. Didn't, like, expect you to. It's not too long 'til I see Liet anyway. Day after tomorrow, right? He'll be there already, I bet."

"Aren't you worried he's not going to be there?"

Feliks shook his head confidently. "Nah. When Liet says he's gonna do something, he totally does it, no matter what it takes. He never lets me down, ever. Besides, worrying's totally his job!" He laughed and stared happily off into space, lost in memories.

_Lucky,_Lovino thought. _Able__to__depend__on__someone__like__that.__I__can__'__t__do__that.__I__'__m__alone__now._Again, he shut off his thoughts and tried to blank his mind.

The sun was beginning to touch the horizon to their left, which at this time of year meant that it was about eight in the evening. Or that's what Lovino guessed at. It was probably later than that. The ochre light shone across the sky in thin rays, contrasting with the deepening blue sky. There was a brief flutter of movement nearby as a bird landed in its treetop nest.

"It's like, getting dark," Feliks said, as if reading his thoughts. "D'you think we ought to, like, make camp or something?"

"Whatever," Lovino muttered dismissively. His thoughts were all tangled up again and he didn't really care what they did.

Feliks jumped off the road, slung his bag on the grass and sat down at the base of a nearby tree. "You don't, like, have any tents either, do you?"

With a scowl, Lovino sat nearby. "Yeah, my bag's really big enough for a couple of tents. Jackass." Feliks flinched back at this, watching him warily with wide green eyes, but Lovino was too tired to care about what the other thought of him. He rolled over so he was lying on his side in the grass, and closed his eyes.

"Ow...my feet totally hurt," Feliks moaned, rubbing his feet. "Wish I, like, had a car or something. Make this travelling way easier."

Lovino turned over and glared. "Go to sleep, damn it."

"'K," Feliks replied, and fell silent for the last time that day before snuggling up next to the tree. Lovino gave him a final glance before flipping back over. This guy really was weird. But, even if it had taken a chance meeting with a strange new individual at least he was going to the capital now.


	5. Chapter 5

By the third day of their travels, Lovino wasn't sure if he wanted to cry in desolation, or punch his new friend in the face. They were less than a morning's walk from the capital, and the tension was beginning to kill him. His last hope was pinned on his family being there; if they weren't, he was pretty sure it would destroy him.

The fact that, now Feliks was used to the company, he wouldn't shut up, didn't help. Most of the previous afternoon had been spent listening to him chatter as they walked. Anything and everything had been mentioned; the most prominent subjects being food, his life before the explosions, missing the internet, Liet and ponies. He'd never known how much weird stuff the internet had on it until he heard Feliks's repertoire of phrases. It was like another language...one with atrocious grammar.

"...and he was all, 'really?', so I was like, 'totally!'. But, like, no one ever knew about it, so apart from that it was a bit fail. So I said...wait. What was I saying? I forgot. There's a bird over there that's doing something."

Lovino raised an eyebrow incredulously and shook his head, sending a slight throb pulsing through it. They'd run out of water the previous evening, and Lovino was dehydrated and irritable because of it. He rubbed his eyes wearily, hoping the pain would go away.

Something prodded him in the arm, and he realised Feliks was talking to him.

"Hey. HEY! You there? I, like, forgot what I was saying," Feliks half-sang, eyes glinting emerald in the sunlight.

Lovino sighed. "No."

"No?" Feliks cocked his head in puzzlement. "You mean, 'you're not there', or 'you can't remember'?"

"I mean I don't care," Lovino snapped. "I've been listening to you talk for an hour, and I haven't understood a word, damn it! Your grammar is incomprehensible, I don't know some worthless internet video, and what the hell are all those acronyms about? It's bloody confusing, and I've got a headache, damn it! Shut up for once, you stupid jerk!"

"Oh," Feliks muttered quietly, subdued again. "Ok...I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Damn straight you should be," Lovino scowled, glaring at the road in front of his feet.

Feliks's bottom lip quivered. "Well, you're not, like, a bucket of rainbows either. All I've done is try be friendly, and you totally go all silent and glare at junk. You don't even try to , like, make conversation. And when you, like, do talk, it's only to yell at and insult me. I-if anything...er..._you_'_re_ the bastard!" He blinked his green eyes in alarm, as if unsure he'd just said all that aloud.

"Me? What the hell?" Lovino's jaw dropped in disbelief. No one had said something like that to him before, except his grandpa, but he was family and didn't count. The curl on his head twitched slightly in annoyance.

"Yeah. You don't have to act mean to everyone just 'cos stuff blew up. The world, like, hasn't stopped or anything. Life's got good stuff too." Feliks retorted, beginning to get into his argument.

The Italian clenched his fists. "Life may be all sunshine and happiness for you! You've got that dependable friend, people to support you, and all that stuff to get up to! Yet you never stop to think! I've got a life of my own too, damn it!" Lovino was starting to bear more than a faint resemblance to his favourite food.

"It doesn't, like, hurt to look on the bright side sometimes!" Feliks argued.

Lovino's eyes blazed. "You try looking on the fucking bright side when your entire family died in that explosion, damn it!" He stood, jaw clenched and breathing hard for about half a second before he realised what he said. His arms fell limply to his side and he began to tremble gently, breathing suddenly erratic and shallow.

The pair looked at each other, amber eyes to green, then Lovino slowly crumpled to the floor and began sobbing into his knees.

The anger had vanished from Feliks' face, replaced with disbelief and remorse. "What..?" he gasped, his voice hushed. "Gosh...I'm, like, so sorry! I didn't know!" He dropped to the floor next to Lovino and laid a hand on his shoulder. For once, he was silent from not knowing what to say.

Lovino stayed curled up and mute for perhaps five minutes before he regained his composure. He wiped the tears from his face with the back of his sleeve, smearing dust across his cheeks. His eyes were gaunt and empty.

Feliks looked at him with concern. "I'm so sorry. Is there, like, anything I can do? You want a hug, or some food or something?" His slightly garbled sentence gave away that he felt out of his depth.

"No, I'm fine." Lovino's voice was barely audible.

"Sure?"

Lovino nodded, then suddenly picked himself up again and set off. A look of shock crossed Feliks' face before he ran to catch up, feet clicking on the tarmac.

"You ok?"

Irritation flickered briefly in Lovino's eyes. "Yes. I said I'm fine. It's just a bit hard to cope with at times. Drop the subject. And if anyone asks, I _did not just cry, damn it!_" He was staring hard into the distance again with a look that was half-scowl, half-despair.

Feeling awkward once more, Feliks stuck his hands in his pockets and sighed.

Some minutes later, Lovino cleared his throat uncertainly. "Er...sorry. I shouldn't have got mad. I don't know what's happening at the moment. But...it's not that I don't appreciate the company, such as it is." The voice still didn't sound like his own. He felt drained, empty, almost numb.

Feliks smiled again in relief. "That's 'k. I'm sorry too. I shoulda thought there was a reason behind you being all withdrawn and alone and junk."

"Yeah..." Lovino sighed. His head felt like it was filled with cotton wool. "We...we were getting out of the city after the announcement about the missiles, the three of us, but my brother got separated from us and my grandpa went back for him. He said he'd meet me in the capital, but to be honest...I'm not that hopeful. I looked for ages and they weren't in the crowds leaving the city. I don't know what I'll do if they're not there. My life's pretty hopeless about now."

"There's always hope," Feliks said simply. And that short phrase, despite everything, lit a gentle spark in Lovino's mind. For the first time in a week, a smile flicked momentarily across his face.

"We've gotta be nearly there now, right? You'll see soon." Feliks ran a hand through his long blond hair and examined the horizon.

"Right. Soon." Lovino shook again in agitation and forced himself to breathe calmly.

Some time later, Feliks began whistling jovially again. It was always the same song; varying from slow and reflective to bright and passionate, but then, it was hard to tell from just a whistle.

Lovino gave him an odd look. "That song you keep whistling. What is it?"

"Hmm? Oh, that. It's, like, called 'Pokolenie'. Me and Liet - it's like our song." Feliks sung gently. "_Każde pokolenie ma własny czas. Każde pokolenie chce zmienić świat. Każde pokolenie odejdzie w cień. A nasze nie._"

Lovino blinked. "I didn't understand a word of that. What language even is that?"

Feliks laughed. "Polish, of course! My language! Haven't you, like, heard stuff I've said? Lol. In English, it's called 'Generation'. The words mean; _Every generation has its time. Every generation wants to change the world. Every generation will pass over. And ours won't._ Something like that. Liet likes it 'cos its deep."

"Mmm," Lovino murmured vaguely.

"Liet thinks we should leave some sorta legacy. One that's purely good. 'Cos everyone in the past, everyone who's done something good is straightening out something that someone bad has done. Er...I forgot what he said next." Feliks giggled and flicked his hair back.

"Not much chance of that," Lovino muttered darkly. "One word; kaboom."

Feliks grinned. "Yup. Someone somewhere's screwed up bad. You know why all this happened anyway? 'Cos the first thing I knew was when everyone, like, panicked. Who blew up who and why? I'm totally confused."

"Dunno," replied Lovino with a shrug. "I think my...my grandpa knew something, but..."

"He never told you?" Feliks completed for him, one eyebrow raised.

Lovino shook his head, setting his headache off again. He moaned silently, but Feliks didn't notice.

"Sucks. Whoa." Feliks's eyes grew wide. "What-?"

Lovino followed his gaze. Some distance away, fields suddenly gave away to charcoal-blackness. The outlines of wrecked buildings were just visible among the burnt shapes. His heart turned to lead. He swallowed forcefully, trying to control his breathing.

"Holy shit, dude," Feliks breathed. "They, like, blew this place up too?"

"It makes sense," Lovino answered in a monotone. "If you're going to explode something, it may as well be the most important place." He paused. "You think your friend's gonna be there still?"

"'Course," Feliks said dismissively. "C'mon. We may as well check it out." He ran across the width of the motorway, clambered over the dividing barrier and continued across the fields.

Lovino stared after him for a second, then vaulted his own way across the barrier and caught up.

As they got closer, the capital proved itself not to be as deserted as it seemed. Shapes of people moved around the outskirts of town, and their shouts carried faintly through the air. Impatient, threatening shouts. Lovino shuddered. The place had an atmosphere of intimidation surrounding it.

They entered the city limits and wandered down a cracked and dusty road. There were small groups of people scattered around the areas. A bedraggled family crouched under a corrugated iron shelter, with a teenage boy desperately trying to light a fire. Two girls in tattered dresses cowered in the shadows of a damaged wall. A group of men, standing around a broken motorcycle, snarled at a younger man wearing overalls and a terrified expression.

Feliks bit his lip. "Friendly place much?" His expression barely concealed terror. Lovino remembered the way the Pole had reacted to their earlier confrontations and wondered how much help he would be in a fight.

"Let's just go, damn it," he muttered, speeding up slightly. Feliks blinked, then re-adjusted his bag and followed.

"I wonder where Liet is. He's probably waiting for me somewhere."

Lovino's heart leapt into his throat at the reminder of the search. Would Feliciano and Grandpa even be here? And if so, where? Even as a ruin, this place was enormous.

Feliks gave him a sympathetic smile. "Like, don't worry about it. We'll find them." Lovino's wracked expression didn't change. "Hey, and, well, if we don't...you can, like, come stay with me and Liet if you want. Er...you don't have to be, like, on your own and that..." His sentence disappeared into the air of uncertainty.

Forty-five minutes later, they were still none the wiser. The city was a ruin; some streets clutching desperately at the ravaged buildings that lined them, others barely soot and ash scattered across bleak flatness. Lovino was fairly sure they were lost.

No corner of the city was going unseen under Feliks' gaze. His head flicked in a dozen directions, trying to spot the familiar face he searched so desperately for.

He craned his neck and peered into a half-collapsed alleyway. "Liet? Damn." His expression was a lot more fearful than it had been, and he was digging his long nails into his hand in nervousness. Lovino was nearly as agitated, but better at hiding it.

The Italian halted suddenly. "Wait. I heard something." His eyes narrowed and flicked around urgently in search of a weapon. "Keep an eye - ah!" Something hard and blunt whacked him sharply on the head, sending a burst of pain through his mind. Stars danced across his vision and he staggered forward, disorientated.

"Hey!" Feliks' voice sounded somewhere behind him. There was a crack, and something thudded heavily to the floor.

Rough blackness descended on Lovino's head - he was in a sack! No way were these people getting him that easily. "Get off me, bastard!" he yelled, throwing random punches. His fist collided with something soft and, to his delight, he heard a breathless "Oof!". Still blind, he grinned, but his victory was short-lived. Pain shot through his head as he was struck again, and he collapsed limp to the floor.

Laughter rung in Lovino's ears. "Night-night, kiddo," a cruel voice sniggered.

Lovino swore again, but his voice was faint and threaded with pain. Despair clouded his mind as he was hit for the final time, and everything went black.


	6. Chapter 6

There was rough, scratchy blackness in front of Feliks' eyes, reminding him immediately of the situation he was in. He no longer had any idea where he was, who had captured him, or whether he would even be alive in five minutes time. Terror twisted through his heart, but it was mixed in equal proportions with anger. His only thought was to get out before someone could stop him.

He seemed to be sat on something - probably a chair. Sharp pains lanced constantly up his arms from where they were forcibly restrained behind him. There was some sort of rope binding his hands, which bit painfully into his wrists when he tried to move.

He tried to struggle upright, only to be pushed downwards again by unknown hands.

"Do not resist, please," a voice advised him. It was a cold voice, yet tired...and somehow familiar. "It will only hurt you."

Feliks' eyes narrowed, although his captor couldn't see it through the sack on his head. "Like, let me go right now! I have rights and stuff, you know!"

His captor sighed. "Since when has anyone had rights since this escapade? Besides, its easier if you just wait. No one's actually going to hurt you. Personally, I don't see why you're tied up, but then, it wasn't my idea."

"Then what-" Feliks' heart went cold as he realised something awful. "You...you bastards took Liet, didn't you? That's why he didn't meet me! Like, give him back right now or else!" He didn't point out the irony of threatening someone while tied up.

"Liet?" It was obvious his captor was frowning. "I've heard that somewhere before...where was it?" A steady beat of footsteps started up; it seemed they had started pacing.

"When you took Liet away from me of course!" Feliks yelled. "You are totally gonna pay for this!" He thrashed at his bonds in a futile escape attempt.

There was a short moment of silence, then his captor snapped his fingers. "_Bien sûr!_ That's it." The footsteps drew closer, then light flooded Feliks' vision as the sack was removed. He screwed his eyes up in pain at the brightness.

"Ah, I was right. _Bonjour,_ Feliks. It has been a while."

Feliks jolted. _That's_ why the voice sounded so familiar. He opened his eyes again, and immediately met another azure pair, framed with long silky blond hair. There was an intrigued look in those eyes - one Feliks remembered and didn't like.

"Francis," he said in a strangled voice. "Like, what the hell?"

The Frenchman laughed. "I will explain. But first, I will undo those bonds. As much as I like people tied up, it is not as good for conversation." He laid a hand momentarily on Feliks' shoulder, then slid it down his arm to the rope on his hands. Feliks shivered in repulsion.

"Like, don't do that."

Francis only laughed again, but it was a different laugh this time, more unnerving than amused. "You love it really, _mon cher." _His fingers glided around the knots, and seconds later Feliks was freed.

The Pole stood up, rubbing his chafed wrists. "Ow. That totally smarts. But seriously, what are ya doin', Francis?'

"It is a long story. You should take that seat again." Francis grabbed the other seat, the only other item of furniture in the bare room. It was a squashy armchair, slightly scuffed, but substantially more comfortable than Feliks' wooden seat.

Feliks reluctantly sat again. "This, like, better be a good explanation. Oh, and in advance, stay in your own seat."

Francis pouted and kicked his feet over one of the chair's arms. "Oh, you're no fun. Alright. I'll explain. But I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."


	7. Chapter 7

"How many times have I had to tell you, we're not working here as a gang! You don't have to knock people out and tie them up to bring them here!" A strange voice floated into Lovino's ears as he regained consciousness.

He opened his eyes groggily to find an intermittent blackness. Light poked through hundreds of tiny holes in the bag tied over his head, but he couldn't make anything out except for two darkish blobs which he presumed were people. Lovino decided to listen and find out where and why he was.

"Pfft," replied a second voice, somewhat scornful with a German accent. "This way's more fun."

The first voice sighed. "It scares the hell out of people. The last guy who was here nearly had a heart attack. And before that was that kid who wouldn't stop crying for ages. His grandfather nearly murdered you."

"Aw, don't remind me about that, Toni," said the second voice. "I said I was sorry. Poor kid." A strange, almost remorseful cheeping accompanied this apology.

'Ok, I get you." This was Toni, the first voice. Lovino could almost hear the smile on the guy's face. It was a weird impression.

"Right. You want the awesome me to take off the sack and untie him before he wakes up?"

There was a vague rustling sound. "Nah, I'll do it." From Lovino's restricted vision, the blob that was Toni moved closer and raised his arms to the sack on his head, and a second later, Lovino's vision was clear. He looked up and glared his captor straight in the eyes.

Disconcertingly green eyes, framed by messy brown hair, in a tanned, fairly handsome face. _Wait. I did NOT just think that! _He'd guess the guy was a bit older than he was, wearing a dark red shirt and faded grey jeans, muddy around the hem.

The guy raised his eyebrows. "Hmm? He's already awake, Gil."

"Of course, you bastards," Lovino spat. "What the hell are you doing with me?"

Gil, the second guy, ran a hand through a shock of silver-white hair and grinned. "Kesese. You ain't gonna get untied with a mouth like that."

"Be nice, Gil," Toni laughed, reaching to untie Lovino's hands. "I'm sure our young friend is just disorientated."

Lovino waited until he was freed before jumping to his feet and retorting. "You can shove your speculations right up your arse, bastard!"

Toni raised his hands and backed off. "Whoa! Ok, ok, calm down a sec. Gilbert didn't mean to tie you up - it's just an automatic response of his. We're not going to hurt you. Friends, ok? My name is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, but you can just call me Antonio. And this is Gilbert Beilschmidt." The latter grinned, and the small yellow bird on the shoulder of his dark blue jacket cheeped happily.

"I don't give a damn what your name is," Lovino snapped back. "If we're all such great friends, where the hell's the bag you stole from me, where am I, and what do you do with...the others you brought here?"

"Others?" Antonio looked briefly puzzled. "Oh, you mean your friend. He's in the other room. Don't worry, he's fine. As for your bag, it's over there." He pointed to the corner behind Lovino, where his bag lay, still dusty and untouched.

Lovino snatched up his bag and growled, unconvinced despite Antonio's threatless manner and cheerful smile. He hadn't answered Lovino's second question after all.

Gilbert rolled his eyes and walked over to the door. He raised a hand and knocked a jaunty rhythm into the wood. "Yo, Francis. If your guy's awake, bring him in, 'k? We're all talking in here." A muffled voice answered the affirmative.

Lovino still hadn't dropped his glare, but instead transferred it to the bare wooden floor instead of his insufferable ex-captors. He didn't want them to think he was getting friendly.

The door swung open with a creak and Feliks wandered in, closely followed by another long-haired blond who Lovino assumed was Francis. He had an amused look on his face and clothes that were too clean for a man living in a disaster area.

"_Bonjour," _Francis smiled. Lovino scowled further. So, a Spaniard, a German and a Frenchman. Sounded like the first line of a bad joke.

"Hey," Antonio replied, still sounding way too cheerful.

"'Sup," added Feliks. "You guys gonna continue what Francis was saying? 'Cos he cut off halfway through and I, like, still have questions and junk."

"_D'accord," _Francis said. "By the way, Antonio, Gilbert, this is Feliks Łukasiewicz, an old friend of mine. Feliks, meet Antonio. I presume you and Gilbert have already met." They knew each other? Lovino wasn't sure whether to let his guard down a bit, or distrust these guys further.

Gilbert sniggered. "A friend of yours, Francis, or a _friend of yours?"_ He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Ohonhonhon," Francis laughed. "Very good, but _non_, Gilbert. Feliks is actually just a friend this time." He turned his head and stepped forward in front of Lovino, way too close for comfort. He could see every hair on his chin, smell his pungent cologne. "And who might you be?"

"Screw off," was Lovino's reply while backing off to the wall behind him, repulsed.

"Oh, we've got a fighter." Francis winked at him, making Lovino's skin crawl. He was beginning to think he needed to find the fastest way out of here while he still could.

Antonio laughed good-naturedly. "Leave him be, Francis. He still doesn't know what's happening yet." He turned towards Lovino, watching him with those intoxicating green eyes. Lovino folded his arms and tried to block out his traitorous thoughts. "Ok, long story short, after the explosion, everything was chaos, so Gilbert, Francis and I decided to try restore some order."

"Hate to break it to you, bastard," Lovino replied, "but you've failed epically."

Antonio shook his head. "I wouldn't think so. We keep a record of who comes through here and who they're looking for. We've reunited many people with their families over the last few days. The amount of people may have dried up a lot in the last day or two, but I'd still say that was a fair accomplishment."

"So what about all those guys hanging about and beating people up and stuff?" Lovino was obviously still unconvinced.

"We can't be everywhere. We've had to leave it so we only break up the most serious stuff. People have to learn to function on their own. Unfortunately, there are a lot of selfish types around." Antonio looked slightly sad at this.

"Whatever," Lovino muttered dismissively.

Feliks raised a hand. "Uh, question? Francis explained all this stuff to me, but what he didn't say was 'where's Liet?' 'Cos he said he'd meet me, and so if you guys have, like, been keeping track of stuff, you'll know where he is, right?" He was fairly hopeful, but there was an obvious nervous undertone.

"You do know 'Liet' isn't much to go on, right?" Lovino interjected.

Feliks shook his head. "Nah. If he'd have been, like, docu-mented, he'd be Toris Laurinaitis. Didn't tell ya that. Anyways, where is he? He'll, like, totally be worried by now."

Francis shot Gilbert a worried glance, met with an indifferent shrug by the other. He tugged nervously at the collar of his cobalt-blue coat and stared out of the bare window. "Er..." he sighed. "_Je suis désolé,_ Feliks. But I've met everyone who's come into this place since the explosions and ...Toris hasn't been among them."

Feliks looked crushed as his heart turned to ice and stone. "...What?" he said feebly. "But...but he said..." Tears formed in his bright green eyes and quickly spilled over, trickling down his cheeks. He crashed to the floor in a fit of heartbroken sobs. Francis crossed the room and knelt beside him.

"I'm sorry, _mon cher._ It is possible that he is in another town, you know. If he survived the attacks, he will be somewhere."

"But...but...he said he'd be here," Feliks sobbed. "Why wouldn't he?" His mind was a confused whirl. Nothing like this had ever happened to him. Toris had always been unwaveringly dependable.

Francis wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled Feliks into a hug. "I don't know, but you know Toris is reliable, _non_? He'll have a very good reason, and he'll be fine, you'll see."

Feliks hiccupped and tried to stop crying, despite the pain in his chest and that his throat was trying to stop him breathe. "'k," he said slowly. "I'll...I'll look for him, right? Yeah. And...and if he comes here, you guys'll, like, tell him to stay and I'll come back for him, right?"

"Of course," soothed Francis, patting Feliks on the shoulder. "Now, how about we get you something to eat, and perhaps some new clothes, _oui_?" Feliks forced a smile through his tears and nodded.

"Excellent," Francis smiled. Still with an arm around his shoulders, he led Feliks out through the room's second door in the corner.

* * *

><p>Haha! I have finally figured out this site!<br>So here's the Bad Touch Trio, up to no good again! :D


	8. Chapter 8

Gilbert entwined his fingers and stretched lazily. "Right. The awesome me is going out. Don't like all this emotional stuff. Blech. P'raps I'll go stop those biker guys getting outta hand again. _Tshüss_, losers." His bird cheeped again as he strutted out.

Lovino watched him leave, before resuming glaring at Antonio. "Oi, bastard. Where's _my_ food, damn it?"

Antonio gave him a brilliant white smile. "It is probably best to leave Francis to talk to Feliks for a while, huh?"

"What?" Lovino exclaimed incredulously, insulted he was being denied food. He hadn't eaten since the morning before they arrived, and judging from the light through the window, it was early evening now. Since it had been mentioned, he was actually starving.

"I know what you're thinking, but Feliks will be fine. Francis won't take advantage of people who are emotionally fragile. He does eventually find his moral compass." Antonio walked across the room towards him and leant against the whitewashed wall a few feet away, staring at the temporarily mystified boy. "Perhaps instead you could enlighten me as to who you are?" They locked eyes again, and for half a second Lovino was tempted to tell him everything. He just seemed so warm, so welcoming.

But his sensible side regained control. "Mind your own business, damn it!"

Antonio sighed. "You are so harsh. I told you, we're not here to hurt you, or anything else bad."

"Screw you," Lovino replied coldly. He was still waiting for the opportunity to leave. If Francis and Feliks had just gone out the door and it was just Antonio in here, perhaps the window would be a way out.

"Could you at least tell me your name?" Antonio persisted. "It's very hard to have a conversation with someone when you have to address them as 'you' all the time."

"Nope." Lovino had had enough of the pestering. He slung his bag over his shoulder and ran for the window. He could hear Antonio shouting after him, but he didn't care. There was nothing for him here.

But the window was locked firmly shut and wouldn't yield to his tugging. He raised a foot, intending to kick it in, but a sudden vice-grip captured his wrist and he was knocked over by an inopposable force. He yelled out in surprise as his bag slipped off his shoulder and spun off across the room.

There was a dull thud as he contacted the wooden floor and a heavy weight landed on top of him. Disorientated, he opened his eyes to find Antonio's face mere inches from his own. Emerald eyes pierced into his, and his nose filled with the smell of sun-dried tomatoes and cornfields. For a moment, he lay completely stunned.

"Ah, sorry. But I couldn't allow you to break our window." Antonio was smiling, but there was an underlying threat to the words.

Lovino's wits came back in an instant. "Get off," he gasped, breath cut off by the impact. After a second, Antonio obliged, and Lovino scrambled away, mind whirling in confusion. He was angry, definitely. But there was something else...something he wasn't sure about. Probably more anger. Breathing hard, he reverted to his age-old defence. "What the hell, bastard?"

Antonio approached him and laid a hand on his shoulder, a gentle smile on his face. "Sorry about that. But why did you just try to leave like that? Don't you want to wait for your friend?"

"He's not a friend, just a guy I met, damn it," Lovino muttered unsurely, fighting the rising guilt. These thoughts were becoming a problem for him - he'd even forgotten to knock Antonio's hand off his shoulder.

"Of course." Antonio gave him another sympathetic smile. "So how about we drop the subject for a moment and just talk, ok?"

"No."

Antonio sighed. "Can I at least have your name?"

Lovino folded his arms and glared again. "Will it shut you up?"

Antonio grinned. "Probably not. But I would like to know it. You are...an intriguing person."

For a moment, Lovino lost his composure. Intriguing? No one outside his family had ever said anything even remotely complementary to him before. Did Antonio really mean to be nice to him?

"Lovino," his traitorous mouth admitted before his brain had a chance to catch up.

"Aw!~ That's a cute name!" Antonio smiled.

"No it's not. Shut up, damn it. You're a complete bastard and I hate you." Lovino stalked over to the other side of the room and faced away. Just because Antonio wouldn't let him leave didn't mean Lovino was going to talk to him.

* * *

><p>Hmm-hm-hmm. Yeah. Some sort of vague-Spamano I guess. I had fun writing this chapter. :D Confused Lovi is confused.<br>Tschüss is like a German form of 'see ya', for those who don't know.  
>PS: Spot the sneaky, sneaky hint ;)<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

Feliks settled on a torn bar stool and rested his arms on the counter in front of him. The world was swaying slightly, and there was a weird tingling in his arms. His mind was a whirl of despair and confusion. How could Toris have abandoned him like that?

There was a click and a hiss as Francis switched on the kettle. He bustled around, fetching cups and searching the battered cupboards for anything edible.

"There's not much in here, I'm afraid," Francis said mournfully. "We give a lot of food to people around here, and Gilbert eats most of what's left." He shut one cupboard and began poking in another above the chipped sink. "Hmm...tuna, no, wurst, no...flour, no. Ah, here we are! I thought we had some brownies in here somewhere." He pulled an ice cream tub out of the cupboard and opened it to reveal a half-batch of squishy brown cubes.

"Yay, brownies," Feliks replied half-heartedly. Usually, he loved sweets of all kinds, but right now he didn't care for anything. He was just too devastated to eat.

Francis sat on the chair opposite him and gave him a gentle smile, laying the box of brownies on the table. "I am sorry. I know well what it is like to be betrayed by someone."

"Liet...totally...wouldn't...betray me," Feliks choked, fighting tears as he spoke.

"Whether it is voluntary or not," Francis said, "it is still betrayal if he did not fulfill his word." Feliks didn't respond, just stared at the marbled countertop under his hands.

A bubbling wheeze echoed around the room as the kettle boiled. "Ah, that was quick," Francis smiled, standing up again and crossing over to the kettle. "Would you prefer coffee, tea - wait, we're out of tea - or hot chocolate?"

"Chocolate," Feliks murmured, hoping the sugar would help. Francis tipped powder into both cups and poured the water on top, stirring the mixture briefly as he did so. A delicious sweet smell filled the room.

He offered Feliks one of the drinks, his expression one of concern. Feliks silently accepted the cup and wrapped his fingers around its warmth mournfully.

Francis looked unsure at the awkward silence and ran his fingers through his long blond hair nervously. Feliks, oblivious to this, gazed into his hot chocolate. White swirls spiralled slowly into the centre of the thin froth layer, as occasionally bubbles popped around the edge.

The kettle whistled in the background as it cooled, and it suddenly caught Feliks' eye. It was slightly cracked and worn from use, but that wasn't what Feliks was interested in. A grubby white wire ran out the its back, and into an electric outlet on the wall.

Feliks stood up abruptly, his stool crashing loudly to the lino, and raced over to it.

Francis watched him curiously. "What on earth are you doing?"

"My phone," Feliks said breathlessly. "The battery's flat, but, there's, like, a charger point here. It's the first time I've found electricity." He fumbled impatiently in his bag and eventually located the black plug he sought.

Realisation dawned on Francis as he watched Feliks attach his phone to the port. "You have a way to contact Toris?" His breath came short as he was caught up in his friend's anticipation.

"Yeah," Feliks replied, staring at the phone's screen impatiently. For an agonising second, nothing happened, then the red charging light flashed and a logo lit up across the screen. Feliks' heart soared with hope.

Francis hovered over his shoulder as Feliks edgily selected Toris's number and pressed the call button. He held the device up to his ear, shaking gently. "C'mon Liet," he muttered.

There was a short pause, then; _Bzzt bzzt. _It had connected at the very least.

_Bzzt bzzt. _Feliks held his breath. The tension was getting too much to bear.

_Bzzt bzzt. _Any second now he'd hear Toris's reassuring voice, he was sure of it.

_Bzzt bzzt. _"Any answer, _mon ami_?" Francis interrupted.

"Shh," Feliks said impatiently as the dialling tone _bzzt_'ed again.

_Bzzt Bzzt. Bzzt bzzt. Bzzt bzzt. _

Suddenly the dial cut off and Feliks' heart leapt as he heard Toris' voice in his ear.

"_Hi, this is Toris. I'm really sorry, but I can't take your call at the moment. Please leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks_." The voice stopped and was replaced by a tormenting beep.

An answering machine. Toris wasn't there.

The phone slid out of Feliks' hand and clattered to the floor. Feliks stood for a second, swaying gently, before he lost his balance and fell, saved only by Francis' reactions.

Too stupefied even to cry, Feliks lay limp in Francis' arms as the latter knelt on the floor. The Frenchman was saying something, but the words were far away and indistinguishable, the world blurry and spinning, his mind reeling and questioning and...black.

* * *

><p>*le gasp! Toris has gone AWOL!<br>I don't know if Feliks' reaction is too OTT, but it's something I nearly did once, and I figured, what the hell.


	10. Chapter 10

Francis saw Feliks' eyes shut, but didn't twig what had happened until the Pole's breathing settled into a slow and steady rhythm. He'd fainted - from shock most likely. Francis understood what he felt, and was worried for him.

Picking up the limp body, he slowly made his way back across the hallway into the room he had been in a few minutes previous. Feliks' grubby shoes dragged on the tiles.

Francis opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking quietly as it swung. Antonio immediately became visible, facing away from the door towards the brown-haired Italian, who had his back to him and his arms folded. He appeared to be pleading with him about something.

Upon hearing the hinges, Antonio turned and his eyes widened at the sight of Feliks' unconscious body propped against Francis. "_Dios mio!_ What happened?" Behind him, Lovino glanced around, trying to hide his concerned expression.

Francis bit his lip. "He tried phoning through to Toris once he discovered he could charge his phone. There was no reply at the other end - it connected, but no one was able to pick up. Toris is obviously unavailable...or worse."

Antonio gasped. "Oh! Is he ok?"

"He fainted shortly after. I think it was all too much for him. He'll certainly be upset when he wakes up though."

"Do you think you should lie him down?" Antonio asked.

"_Oui,_" Francis replied. "I came to request your assistance in taking him next door." He was struggling a bit to keep Feliks upright by now.

Antonio promptly crossed the room and supported Feliks' legs, taking some of the strain from Francis. "Let's go then. Come on, Lovi."

"What the hell is a Lovi?" Lovino scowled, picking up his bag and following them out through the kitchen.

"You are, of course," Antonio smiled.

"Ah, you found out about our new friend," interjected Francis.

"Not particularly," replied Antonio. "He's very cagey."

"Damn right," Lovino said, determined to keep his point of view in check. "Where are we going anyway?" They were by now through the kitchen and out of a set of French doors leading into what had once been a garden, gleaming in the fading light. To their right was a pile of rubble; to their left, another building.

"Next door. This house and the one next to it were the least damaged out of the places in this area, but they're very small. So we keep our base of operations where we just were, and the three of us sleep in the building over here." Antonio indicated with his head to the bungalow to the left. Lovino turned around. It and the building he'd just left looked very similar; smallish, probably four-roomed bungalows, slightly battered and covered with dust and ash. From his best guess, they were on the outskirts of the city.

They crossed a flattened fence into the left-side garden and approached the new building. Dilapidated shutters hung uncertainly off the edges of the windows, and the paintwork was discoloured and cracked. There was also a hefty padlock chaining the back door to the wall.

"Security," Antonio said, noticing Lovino's gaze. "We don't particularly want people coming in and taking our stuff whenever they please." He shifted his grip on Feliks to one hand and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, inserting one into the padlock. It clicked loudly on turning and the lock clunked heavily to the ground. Antonio picked it and the chain up, and the two, still with Feliks between them, headed inside.

Lovino hung back for a second, thinking. If he wanted a chance to escape, now was the best one he'd had. The ground was open for some distance, nothing blocking his way at all, and the others were inside the house.

So why hadn't he moved yet?

He frowned, trying to puzzle his newfound indecision and move, when Antonio poked his head around the doorframe.

"Lovi!~ You coming in?" His voice was cheerful, like a song, and accompanied as always by a bright smile. It was clear he expected, perhaps even wanted Lovino to come in.

Lovino shook himself. What did he care what that bastard thought? With a quiet curse, he scuffed the ground and headed inside. Unnoticed to him, Antonio smiled quietly, and disappeared inside the house ahead of Lovino.

The interior wasn't as battered as the outside, with the flower-patterned wallpaper being almost new, and the kitchen they entered being clean and shining. Evidently the place had been well-kept and only abandoned after the attacks. Still, the old-fashioned designs couldn't help but bring a smirk to Lovino's face.

He headed through into a small hallway, wooden panelled with three doors leading off it, two to the left, one to the right. The further left door was slightly ajar, with Antonio and Francis' voices audible from the inside.

Lovino walked up to it and cautiously poked his head around the edge. The room looked like it had been hastily converted; a dining table was folded against one wall and the bed on the far side was a temporary camp bed. A pile of neatly folded clothes lay next to a suitcase at its foot.

Feliks, still unconscious, lay on the bed, orange rays on his face from the sunset through the window. Francis was bent over next to him with two fingers on the side of his neck. Antonio was stood slightly behind with his hands behind his back.

"His pulse is regular," Francis said after a few seconds. "He should come out of it fairly soon."

Antonio smiled. "That's good. I've never liked dealing with casualties to be honest. They're a little out of my depth."

"None of us are doctors, unfortunately," Francis sighed. "Do we have any spare sleeping bags or camp beds? I'll let Feliks keep my bed for a while." So this was Francis' room, Lovino noted.

"Should have a couple," Antonio replied cheerfully. "You staying the night too, Lovi?"

Lovino blinked. He hadn't realised the Spaniard had noticed him come in the room. "Maybe," he said cautiously.

"Well, you'll have to decide where to sleep if you want to stay."

"What?"

"There's only three bedrooms in here, as the fourth's a kitchen," Antonio explained. "And Feliks is staying in Francis' room, so you have to decide which one you want. Or more specifically, who you'd prefer as a roommate."

Lovino looked aghast. "Roommate? With you bastards? No way. I'll sleep in the other house, thanks."

Antonio raised his eyebrows. "Really? Well, that's your choice. But unless you've got a lock on your doors, people'll come in and rob you. Beat you up too, most likely. We've had three raids there in the last two nights. This disaster's really brought out the worst in people."

"Then give me a lock."

Antonio shook his head. "Only got enough for this house, I'm afraid. If you want safety, you'll have to stay here."

Lovino sighed in exasperation. "Fine. I'll sleep in the kitchen."

"_Désolé,_ Lovino," Francis continued. "But that's where we store everything overnight. Records of people, weaponry, supplies, et cetera. We've got quite a lot that we'd prefer not to get taken."

_Weaponry? _Lovino frowned. "The hallway then."

"Same problem."

"_Cazzo._" Lovino scowled.

Antonio looked briefly shocked, but didn't say anything. "Sorry, but your choice is to leave here and find somewhere else safe, or share a room."

"That's a Hobson's choice, damn it! There is nowhere else safe! Agh! I'll stay."

"Excellent!" Antonio smiled. "I'll set up a sleeping bag in my room now." He brushed past Lovino and started to head out.

Lovino grabbed his sleeve. "Wait a second, bastard. Who said anything about sharing a room with you?"

Antonio looked slightly downcast. "Well, as I said, it's your choice. But I just thought you'd prefer this than sharing with Gilbert."

Lovino had to prevent himself from swearing again. The Spaniard was right once more. He let go of Antonio's arm and folded his arms in silent, if reluctant, agreement. Antonio regarded him with those green eyes for a moment, then left without another word.

Francis chuckled behind him, as if at a private joke. Lovino ground his teeth. This seemed to be getting worse and worse, and he couldn't think of another option out of it.

* * *

><p>So, Lovino has decided to stay, for the moment. Things ensue. And will continue to ensue.<p>

Just as a thing, a Hobson's choice means no choice at all. See, there was this Cambridge innkeeper who'd offer buyers the horse nearest the door in his stable, or no horse at all.  
>Am wondering if I need to up the rating for this fic...cazzo is a rudey word. Lovi needs his mouth washing w soap.


	11. Chapter 11

Feliks awoke with a cold feeling of dread in a room he didn't know. It was vaguely dark, and someone had removed his shoes. To his surprise, he found he didn't care a bit. It had all been too much. Today, he'd found the capital in anarchic ruins, been knocked out and tied up, discovered Toris was uncontactable, maybe even dead, and he was now left in the company of people he barely knew. He'd gone all the way up the hill of pain and skidded right down the other side into a blank abyss. The numbness was, in a way, almost comforting. At least it was better than constantly hurting worse than he'd even known.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed onto the cream carpet. Light shone through the side of the door, sending long shadows falling from the contents of the room. Outside, the moon hung in the sky in a silvery crescent. Feliks couldn't remember a time when he'd felt so alone.

Before he lost his nerve entirely, he picked himself up and cautiously wandered out.

A short hallway lay before him. There were boxes stacked around the floor and before the frosted glass of the front door. He padded out in his socked feet and looked in turn at each of the doors. Two were blank, but one, curiously, had 'Awesome' written in Tipp-Ex just above the knob. Despite the blackness in his heart, a smile came briefly to Feliks' face.

A voice sounded out behind one of the other doors, and Feliks turned towards it. It sounded vaguely like Antonio's voice.

Pushing open the door, Feliks was greeted by a pair of relieved smiles in a kitchen filled with stuff. Antonio and Francis, of course. Gilbert shot him a strange wink, and Lovino just gave him a disinterested look.

Antonio, leaning against yet more boxes, brushed an errant curl out of his eyes. "Ah, you're awake!"

Feliks nodded, poker-faced. "I guess."

Francis picked his way across the small room and gave him a short hug. "We were a bit worried when you fainted earlier. Glad to see you're alright."

"Mmm. Where am I?" Feliks' voice was flat and unsure.

"Our second house, next door," Francis said. "It's where we sleep. And it's also locked against intruders."

"Bad news," Lovino interjected. He was sat on the counter midway through a bowl of pasta. "You've got to share a room with one of the bastards. Lucky for you, you actually get a bed."

"Aw.~ You want the bed, Lovi? You can have it if you ask nicely." Antonio clapped his hands together and gave him a delighted smile.

"Shut your damn face," was Lovino's response.

"You should too," grinned Gilbert. "Soap, soap!" This was evidently a conversation topic from earlier, as Lovino actually shut up and merely glared at this.

"Are you feeling alright?" Francis asked, ignoring the latter two.

Feliks bit his lip. "Dunno. It's all, like, numb. And my chest hurts a bit."

Francis laid a hand on his shoulder. "You're just shocked and upset, I presume. Don't worry. We're here if you need anything. Do you feel like something to eat?"

"Nah," Feliks shook his head. He still didn't feel like eating anything.

The Frenchman gave him a concerned look. "If you're sure, Feliks. I think it would be best if you did eat something though, to keep your strength up."

Feliks shrugged non-comittally. He wasn't sure what he needed strength for. "I'll just, like, stay in here for a bit, if that's 'k."

"All right," Francis said reluctantly.

"You seriously want the company of these idiots?" came Lovino's indistinct voice through a mouthful of pasta.

"Lovi!~"

"What? It's true."

"I'm not an idiot. I'm awesome!" Gilbert interrupted, knocking a duct-taped box off the nearest pile. It clattered to the floor with a muffled, slightly metallic clunk. Lovino grinned, pleased his point was proven so quickly.

"Careful!" Francis cried, jumping towards the box with outstretched arms.

Unnoticed by the other four, Feliks changed his mind and slipped out. Obviously simple conversation was too much to expect at the moment. This was just chaos. And that was something he couldn't cope with at the moment.

As he trudged back to the room - he'd by now deduced that it was also Francis's - a feeling of dread settled over him. Slamming the door behind him, he stumbled across the space, and collapsed face first into the pillow. He felt like he was going to cry, but the tears wouldn't come, locked away in a dizzying ball of pain in his head. Despair chased circles around his mind, tying his thoughts in a tangle of confusion. He didn't know what he was going to do.

He lay there, motionless, for the longest time. He didn't know when it was, but it was long since dark. In the back of his mind, a small thought whispered that light would be a good idea. Eventually, almost mechanically, he stood up again and went to turn on the light.

Something smooth ensnared his legs and he almost tumbled to the floor, arms flailing wildly. He caught his balance just in time and stood still, trying to calm the frantic pace of his heart. Once he felt vaguely normal, he resumed his course and flicked on the switch. A faint, watery glow blinked into life and Feliks felt slightly calmer. The hazardous trap in the middle of the floor turned out to be a navy sleeping bag, now slightly rumpled.

To his astonishment, he noticed his bag leaning against the large dining table on the wall, next to his shoes and a small silver object he immediately recognised as his phone. It sat there motionless on the floor, mocking him, a constant reminder that Toris wasn't there.

Feliks turned away and tried not to think. He _wasn't_ going to try call Toris. The exact same end would happen, and he'd just get hurt again. Defiantly, he sat down on the bed with his back to the phone, glaring determinedly at the white-indented walls.

After a moment his gaze dropped and he turned his head back. The phone was still there. Of course it was. It wouldn't have moved by itself. That would just be scary.

But it was still there.

He shook his head hopelessly. It'd kill him if he didn't. He had to know. Hesitantly, he picked up the device and dialled the number. Once again, the dial tone rang in his ear, and he couldn't stop his pulse from racing.

"_Hi, this is Toris. I'm really-"_ Feliks took the phone away from his ear and slid it shut. He'd known that would happen. How would it have not. But he'd still done it, and felt so much worse for it.

He sat on the bed with his head in his hands. The world around him faded into nothing until there was only silence left. Silence and loneliness. Toris was gone. Completely gone, beyond all knowledge.

This time, the tears flowed freely.


	12. Chapter 12

Lovino wandered out of the kitchen some time after Feliks left. He'd finished his pasta by then, and couldn't think of a reason why he wanted to stay in a room with the Idiot Trio, as he was privately thinking of them.

He pushed open the door to Antonio's room, wishing he didn't have to stay there. They'd set up his space a while ago; a dark sleeping bag lay in the corner next to Lovino's backpack, with a short space separating it from Antonio's belongings cluttered chaotically everywhere else.

Antonio had obviously got lucky with this room; it was the only one with an actual bed in it - evidently the bedroom before it was abandoned. The double bed looked like it was meant to have thick comfy duvets, but with just the thin blanket now atop it, it just looked lonely. Half of it was covered in clothes and discarded papers.

A small object caught his eye the desk next to it. Lovino cocked his head curiously at it, then came closer for a further investigation. It turned out to be a slightly cracked plant pot, filled three-quarters up with soil. In the middle, so small as to be unnoticeable, was a tiny pair of leaves, bright and beautiful green shining out from the brown.

A tear blossomed in the corner of one of his eyes. The seedling looked so small, so fragile, lost in the middle of a world of darkness with no support, completely alone. Almost like him.

"Lovi?" Antonio's voice sounded behind him, and Lovino spun around, startled so much he almost knocked the plant over.

"Gah! Don't do that, damn it!" His pulse was racing - probably from the surprise, he reasoned.

Antonio came closer and smiled at the seedling. "Oh, you were looking at my friend? Beautiful, isn't it? It's a little tomato plant."

"Tomatoes," Lovino muttered uncertainly. He hadn't had a tomato in over a week, and, thanks to all the recent turmoil of his life, he hadn't noticed he'd missed them. Strangely, he felt almost guilty for neglecting his favourite food.

"You like tomatoes, Lovi? I do too. I used to grow them, back in my old house. They were delicious."

Lovino didn't reply and continued gazing at the tiny plant. Quietness enveloped his mind; he felt dazed and lost and tired.

"Do you like it?" Antonio continued. "I planted the seeds on the day everything exploded, and it's starting to grow now. I call it the Tomato Plant of Hope, because it is growing as our new society does. Cute, huh?~" Antonio stroked the seedling lovingly.

Lovino stared at him incredulously. The guy seemed to really believe that there was hope left in the world. And he thought his opinion of the Spaniard couldn't get any lower.

_Then why does it all somehow make me slightly...happier? _

Lovino jolted. That last thought had come from nowhere, with a burst of confusion. Blocking his mind in annoyance, he scowled. "That has got to be the dumbest idea I've heard."

Antonio smiled gently at him. "Really Lovi? You think so? Well, no matter how grim the times may seem, there will always be a glimmer of hope somewhere on the horizon. People will always be there for you to confide in, even in the most unexpected of circumstances." He spoke softly, but with such conviction that Lovino was almost persuaded.

"Hmm? How about you get some sleep, huh? You look about ready to drop." Antonio laid a steadying hand on Lovino's shoulder and the Italian became still. He hadn't even noticed he'd been swaying.

"Yeah," he replied faintly, not even bothering to insult Antonio or brush the hand off.

Antonio gave him a comforting smile. "I'll let you get ready, huh? Don't be afraid to come get me if you want to, ok?" He patted Lovino's shoulder briefly, then left the room.

"Why would I need you, bastard?" Lovino replied. But his answer was too late, and spoken only to an empty room. Deflated, he sighed, and began rummaging in his bag for nightwear. He hadn't bothered the past few nights, what with sleeping outside, and it occurred to him that he'd been to distraught to remember to change clothes most of the time. The change felt brighter, and he resolved to clear the dust off himself the next morning.

He snuggled into the cold nylon fabric, certain he wasn't going to sleep. But the comfort and relative safety, for the first time, reassured him, and as soon as his head touched the pillow he was dead to the world.

Antonio returned to the kitchen, somewhat uneasy. Lovino had seemed completely different just then. Much younger and more vulnerable, like a boy out of his depth; scared and alone and unsure how to cope, and the change had surprised Antonio.

Francis looked up from the out-of date magazine he was reading as the door swung open and immediately read Antonio's face perfectly. "_Mon ami,_ what is troubling you? You seem distraught."

Antonio sighed. "It's Lovino. He seemed really upset just now."

Gilbert's voice floated out indistinctly from beneath a pile of boxes, where he'd been building a fort. "You serious?"

"Yes. I think there's something he's not telling us, something bad that's happened to him, and it's really affecting him 'cos he's bottling it all away."

Francis put down his magazine and pursed his lips. "It seems something bad has happened to everyone lately, although that may be obvious. Feliks has been really upset too. I haven't spoken to him, but I listened outside my room earlier and I'm certain he was crying. Loss is something that is very hard to cope with, and I don't think Feliks or Lovino have anyone close who they can talk to about it. Feliks may know me, but we have never been properly close friends."

"However, Feliks is quite open with this," Antonio said thoughtfully. "We know what his problem is, and as soon as possible we can find a solution. But Lovi, he won't talk to anyone; I barely know anything about him. I think it's hard for him."

"Just coax it out of him, or some junk like that," Gilbert said shortly. "Either that or we'll find out once he loses it. If he won't tell us, even the awesome me can't do sod all."

Antonio sighed again. "Well, we'll just have to see, I guess." His voice sounded lost without its usual happy demeanour.

* * *

><p>I've discovered something; Me + Stress = Angsty filler chapters. :  
>Oh well...it's going to change soon as stuff begins to happen.<p>

Antonio's line about how grim times may seem is based on something someone said to me once; it's one of my favourite quotes and a lot of the time, turns out to be true.

Respect the awesome box fort!


	13. Chapter 13

When Lovino awoke, the room was in almost complete blackness, save for a thin sliver of moonlight between a crack in the curtains. For a second, he panicked, wondering where he was, before he remembered the events of the previous day. He sighed and closed his eyes again, wishing he could just go back to sleep. It was clearly still the middle of the night. He hadn't liked nights lately. It often took him ages to get to sleep, and darkness haunted his dreams like a phantom when he did.

Gentle, steady breathing wafted into his ears, and he remembered that Antonio was in the bed on the other side of the room. He wasn't sure whether the sound was a comfort or an annoyance.

He lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling through closed eyelids. Gradually the sound began to remind him of a time when he was very young, back before they moved to the city. He'd lived in an old farmhouse, just him, Feliciano and their grandfather. It had been quite small, and he remembered the times as a small child when he used to lie awake in the room he shared with Feliciano, just listening to his brother's calm breathing, when the world was still and at peace.

Would they really be here? The capital was so big, but perhaps he'd find them in Antonio's log book. Then he'd be ok, back with his family, not so alone. Things were always safe with Grandpa; he was strong and just, and from when Lovino was little, he'd always scared the monsters away.

The blanket of memories was painful and it reminded Lovino just how much he missed them, and how he didn't know where they were, or if they were even alive. His chest constricted and he struggled to breathe straight. A tight coil of sorrow wound itself in his mind, tensely bound and fragile. He shuffled in the sleeping bag, oblivious to the noise the fabric made. His thoughts were proving ever harder to block, and he dug his fingernails into his hand, trying to drive them away as tears formed in his eyes.

He missed Feliciano's obsession with pasta, his grandfather's buoyant laugh, the way they'd curl up on the sofa on cold rainy nights and laugh at old movies, Feliciano's daisy plants in the back yard, blocking his tomato space, and the way they'd argued over it, and how Romulus had intervened and Feliciano had won. Everything he'd taken for granted, everything he'd loved. It was all gone.

The coil snapped silently, and he flipped over and buried his head in the pillow to stifle his sobs. It was so cold and dark. And he was alone.

Suddenly there was a rustle behind him and a pair of arms wrapped around his back, pulling him up off the sleeping bag into something soft and warm. Lovino gasped in shock. A hand buried itself in his hair, stroking it softly. "Shh, shh, it's ok, Lovi. You're alright."

Lovino hid his face in Antonio's shirt and openly sobbed, releasing the well of sadness that had been building for days. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, knew he should be embarrassed by his actions, knew he would regret this later. But Antonio was warm and comforting, and for some reason he didn't know, he felt safer like this. The problems were still there, but they didn't seem threatening. Darkness slowly melted away until this was all that remained.

He drew a shaky breath and looked up, trying to calm himself. Antonio looked down at him with those calm green eyes, and Lovino felt like he could stay here forever. His fingers entwined themselves in Antonio's shirt and clutched tightly.

"You alright, Lovi? It's ok, everything's fine now. Hey, you're all cold. Come here." Antonio gently picked Lovino up and carried him over to his bed. Too tired and drained to protest, Lovino settled onto the soft sheets as Antonio slipped in beside him and pulled the covers up. His head was spinning slightly, all thoughts incapacitated.

Antonio pulled him into a tight hug and, defying the small part of his brain telling him to push away, Lovino complied. He nestled his head in Antonio's shoulder as the Spaniard ran a hand through his hair. It was like a cocoon, warm and safe, and the soporific effect seemed almost irresistible. He closed his eyes in defeat and succumbed to sleep.

But strangely, he was...almost happy.

* * *

><p>I couldn't resist doing this chapter :3 It's so adorable.<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

Lovino awoke the next morning with a bright sunbeam on his face and a strange feeling of comfort. He sat up groggily, realising he wasn't in his sleeping bag, and with a jolt, he remembered what had happened a few hours before. He groaned inwardly, slapping a hand to his forehead and feeling like an idiot.

Luckily for him, Antonio had gotten up earlier and didn't seem to be around.

_Damn it all to hell, _Lovino thought._ The bastard's never gonna let me live that down._ He scowled and stomped out angrily in search of a shower.

The bathroom turned out to be an ensuite attached to Antonio's room, although it was used by all residents currently. It was clean, but spartan, with the only utilities being a toilet, sink and shower-bath. Various bottles and tubes littered the shelves next to the sink and Lovino couldn't help but spend a few moments trying to figure out whose was whose. Fancy shampoo was definitely Francis' - Lovino didn't know the guy well, but it was obvious he cared about his appearance greatly. Things like toothpaste were too ambiguous to tell, but the hair gel and aftershave with 'Awesome' written above the logo had to be Gilbert's.

This didn't hold his attention very long, so he stripped off his clothes and got in the shower. The water was lukewarm, but bearable, and Lovino was glad to be clean.

Once the water running out of his hair had turned from muddy brown to crystal clear, he shut the water off and stepped out. Pulling a fluffy red towel at random off the chrome rack, he quickly dried himself off and switched into black jeans and a dark blue shirt. The towel he draped around his shoulders to catch the drips off his hair. He'd always let his hair dry naturally, even though it took longer. Towelling it off just felt strange.

He wandered out of the bathroom through Antonio's room into the hallway. The boxes had disappeared again and he briefly wondered where they lived during their diurnal period.

"_Hola, _Lovi!" a voice said cheerily behind him and Lovino groaned internally. He hadn't expected his humiliation to come quite so soon. He turned slightly and fixed the Spaniard with an evil-eyed glare.

When he didn't reply Antonio spoke again. "You alright this morning? I hope you're feeling better now."

"Screw off," Lovino retorted. "My life is none of your damn business."

"Oh." Lovino could hear the concern and disappointment in Antonio's voice. "Not that I want to bring it up, but you seemed so upset last night. I was wondering if there was anything that I could do to help." He laid a hand on Lovino's shoulder in an attempt at comfort. Unfortunately, that was the wrong thing to do.

Lovino spun around and pinned him to the wall in anger, water droplets flying off his damp hair. "Listen, bastard. Nothing, I repeat _nothing_, happened last night. So you can shove your phony comforts right back where they came from." He glowered furiously and looked Antonio straight in his confused eyes.

"O-ok, Lovi," Antonio replied in bemusement. "If that's what you want." Lovino growled once more and released his grip on Antonio's shirt.

Just as he turned to go, Antonio spoke again. "I just would like to help you. If something's upsetting you, sometimes it helps to talk about it." He sounded so sincere it was hard for Lovino not to drop and confess everything.

"Get lost," he retorted. "You're useless." As soon as he said this, he realised something and froze. "Wait. There is something."

"Anything to make you happy, Lovi," Antonio replied cheerfully.

"Shut up. Anyway, you said you keep a log of people who come through here. Was...was there anyone called Vargas on the list?" His voice cracked slightly as he spoke and he winced at the leak of emotion.

Antonio looked thoughtful. "Vargas, hmm? Well, it sounds familiar. I'll have to check. Francis has the log book next door. Come on." He took Lovino's wrist and headed out, shortly before the Italian wrenched his arm back and glared.

Francis greeted the two with a bright smile as they entered the grubbier second house. He was sat at a desk in the fourth room, one Lovino hadn't been in before. It was evidently where all the boxes lived in the middle of the day. They were piled high all over the floor in precarious towers; the various chairs, floorboards and even a sofa barely visible beneath them.

"_Bonjour._ Have you two got a mission this morning then? I sense some determination here." Francis jauntily tapped a shiny gold pen on the desk and raised his eyebrows.

Antonio nodded and gestured at a thick brown book on a chair nearby. "Yes. We're looking for someone Lovi knows, name of Vargas." He wandered over to the book and picked it up, rifling to the front and beginning to scan the words.

"Hmm?" Francis steepled his fingers in interest and stared at Lovino. "Vargas...I've heard that before. Quite recently. Where would it have been? _Merde,_ I should know this." He frowned and stroked his short beard thoughtfully.

Lovino sat down heavily on a spare chair and sighed in annoyance. Clearly, this was going to take some time. His search had been taken over before it had even begun.

An industrious silence descended on the room, broken only by the occasional bird or shout from outside. Lovino quickly grew bored of the lack of progress. Truthfully, he wasn't holding out any hope that his family were in there. If they were in the capital, they'd have been looking out for him, and therefore would have found him already.

"Lovi?" Antonio said after a few minutes. "Is that Vargas as a surname or a first? It's easier if I only have to scan one column."

"Surname, obviously," Lovino answered sulkily.

Suddenly Francis snapped his fingers. "I've got it! I knew I remembered the name from somewhere. I'm so blind! They came here, oh, about three or four days after the explosions. A man, perhaps thirtyish, quite strong-looking, very charismatic, and a younger boy, maybe sixteen, with a-" he cut off and gestured a curl off the left side of his head "-like yours."

Antonio's face lit up and he began flicking through the book's pages. "Of course! They were one of the ones Gilbert came across. Poor kid was scared stiff and the older guy nearly killed us for it. It was quite funny really, in hindsight. Ah, here we go! Feliciano and Romulus Vargas."

Lovino couldn't believe what he was hearing. Feliciano and Grandpa were alive after all. _Four days? I'd been hanging around looking for them all that time, and they were here all along? Damn it all! _But his anger didn't last, replaced instead by an overwhelming euphoria. Everything seemed to shine with renewed colour. A smile spread across his face and he raced over to Antonio, jumping around to get a look at the book.

"Really? Where are they, damn it? Tell me!"

"Calm down, I'll tell you. Let's see. Looking for a - ooh, Lovino Vargas! That's you, right Lovi? This must be your family.~ Current location...ah, they're the ones who are staying with Ludwig, aren't they?"

Francis nodded. "_Oui._ They hit it off quite well, after Ludwig explained about Gilbert. He and Romulus seemed to be on the same wavelength - militaristic types, really. And nobody turns down the offer of a place to stay in times like this."

"Who the hell's Ludwig?" Lovino asked impatiently. Not that he'd admit it, but he was desperate to see his family again, and he didn't want to go through a middleman he didn't know.

"Gilbert's younger brother," Antonio explained, "although you wouldn't know it from looking at him. Ludwig's much quieter and more serious. Your family'll be safe with him."

"And where would that be?"

Antonio shrugged. "Not sure. I'll ask Gilbert."

"He's out," Francis interrupted. "Sorry."

Lovino swore violently. "You useless bastards!"

"Sorry, Lovi," Antonio apologised. "I'll see if I can call him." He pulled a phone out of his pocket and hit a number on speed dial. A few seconds later a voice answered, but it was too faint for Lovino to hear.

"Hiya, Gil," Antonio said into the phone. "Can you come back here? Turns out Lovi's related to the guys who are staying with your brother, but I don't have a way to contact him. ... _Sí_. ... _Sí_. ... Oh dear. How long-? ... Really? ... Ok, but he won't be pleased. _Adiós._"

"So what's the bad news?" Lovino had already guessed as much from the side he'd heard.

Antonio flipped the phone shut. "Well, Gilbert's a bit busy at the moment - he gets into these troubles quite easily. But he'll be back a bit later - for lunch, if you're lucky - so you can call them then."

Lovino was pretty close to losing his temper by this point. "Screw that! Where does this guy live? I'll go over myself."

"As I said, I don't know exactly. Gilbert's always been the one to contact him in the last few days." Antonio sighed. "I'm sorry, but you'll just have to be patient for now."

"Patience? Bah! You wouldn't want to be patient if you'd thought your family were dead and you were told you had to wait to see them when they weren't, damn it! Stupid jerk." Lovino shot Antonio a resentful glance and skulked out out of the room. Once again, he found he'd had enough of him.


	15. Chapter 15

Feliks was quickly discovering that the worst part of a semi-apocalypse wasn't the destruction, but the utter loneliness and the boredom that accompanied it. Francis was busy doing some sort of work, which Feliks wasn't the least bit interested in, Gilbert seemed to spend most of his time out the house, and he'd heard Lovino shouting at Antonio earlier. He didn't fancy getting involved in that, so he found himself left to his own devices in Francis' room.

It was late afternoon by now, on his second day in the capital and he'd already run out of things to do. He'd spent a chunk of the morning exploring the house and poking briefly through everyone's stuff to satisfy his curiosity, but there wasn't anything interesting beyond old photos and Francis's clothes collection. Out of interest he'd tried a couple of things on, but Francis was a size bigger than he was and the bad fit quickly diluted any desire to continue.

Every couple of hours he'd try calling Toris again, but he knew now not to expect anything. A dull acceptance had taken over any remaining vestige of hope and, to be honest, he was only phoning to try kill time. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do now; he'd pinned all his plans on meeting Toris. Only the fact that Lovino and Francis were the only people he knew here was keeping him where he was.

He knelt on the bed by the window, elbows propped up on the sill, watching the scenery outside. It was a depressing sight; most places were ruined and devoid of movement of any kind. Occasionally a rodent would scuttle past, but the glimpses were hurried and fleeting and Feliks had long since grown bored of this too.

The all-too-blatant fact that Toris was unreachable was a highly painful contributing factor to his ill mood. He missed him constantly, and the mystery of Toris's sudden lack of reliability kept preying on his mind. It was this that kept his persistence of calling up. Speaking of which...

He delved in his pocket and pulled out his phone. It was almost becoming a routine.

Once more the dial tone pierced his ear, but he was getting used to it by now. This was about the sixth or seventh time he'd called through and each time ended up being identical down to the last _bzzt_.

But unexpectedly, the standard bzzt-ing cut off and was replaced by a strange crackling and rustling.

"_Hello? Feliks, is that you?_" The familiar voice sounded down the phone, slightly muffled by a vague shouting in the background. Feliks couldn't believe it. He'd actually gotten through. Time slowed almost to a crawl. Everything suddenly seemed so very far away.

"Liet?" he asked. The word almost stuck in his throat, he could barely breathe.

"_Feliks, I'm so so sorry. I meant to meet you, I really did. But I can't explain now - I don't have long._" Toris's voice sounded shaky and nervous, and his words nearly crashed into each other in urgency.

"Liet, what-" Feliks tried to interrupt but Toris cut him off.

"_I heard you calling earlier, and I really tried to answer, but I couldn't get to my phone then. It's been kept away from me recently and this is the first time I could answer. Sorry!_"

"What? Where are you?" Feliks almost yelled, mind torn in worry and confusion.

"_The _Sud obsh_-_" Toris started to say, but was stopped by further shouting. Feliks heard a panicked intake of breath from the other end of the line. "_I have to go. I'm sorry, Feliks. Stay safe. I'm fine, I promise. I lo- Ah!" _There was a yell and a loud clunk, and the phone went dead.

Feliks stood frozen in place with the phone beeping in his ear. His mind was refusing to comprehend what had just happened. A wave roared in his ears.

"Shit!" he yelled, kicking the wall in frustration. "Like, why the hell didn't you tell me where you were? You're obviously in trouble, Liet! I just-" he punched the wall fiercely "-want-" he punched again "to help! AH!" He threw his phone onto the bed and clenched his fists, trembling in anger and worry.

Francis threw the door open. "_Mon dieu! _Are you ok? I heard shouting." His alarmed blue eyes scanned the room and rested on Feliks, who had his teeth gritted and was breathing heavily.

"Liet just answered the phone for once and he, like, didn't tell me anything! He's totally in trouble - I can tell - but all he'd say was the something about the court of something or other, and then he totally hung up on me after the massive thud!" His voice became increasingly high and tense as he spoke. Tears sprang into his eyes and his lip quivered as a feeling of helplessness overtook him.

Francis gasped. "You got through?"

Feliks nodded breathlessly. "Yeah. But it was really short - he got cut off by something. Or someone. I don't know!"

"Where is he?" Francis asked, twisting a lock of hair around one finger.

Feliks shook his head. "Dunno. Some guy shouted, and Liet stopped in the middle of a sentence. It made no sense." The anger was slowly draining away, and he just felt empty.

Francis bit his lip thoughtfully. "Hmm. Well, I assure you, Feliks, that we will try to help you in any way possible. It is a shame we no longer have the internet here. We could have very easily looked up or tracked Toris' location."

"Thanks," Feliks said half-heartedly. "It's just that, like, I don't know what to do. Liet's in trouble, and I don't even know where he is, let alone how to help him."

"Don't worry, _mon ami_. You're not alone. Tell you what. This evening, we'll have a situation meeting and the five of us will discuss what to do. Until then, try not to dwell on it. It is something that will not help your mental state in the slightest. Now come on. I was told we have the possibility of a very heartwarming scene on our hands. It is not something I would advise missing in such dark times." He gave Feliks a dazzling smile and motioned for him to follow him out the room. Confused and ever-so-slightly intrigued through his dejection, Feliks obliged and left.

* * *

><p>Surprise!Toris appearance. *dramatic music*<br>Not sure about the ending...but whatever.  
>Due to work issues updates will be suspended for a few days. Regular programming will resume after the weekend.<br>/EoS out.


	16. Chapter 16

"Ve ve ve!~ Grandpa, come play football with me please!"

Romulus was jerked abruptly out of his thoughts by his younger grandson's voice. He was sat cross-legged on a patch of dull brown grass in the garden of one of the capital's many abandoned houses, thinking. The early evening sun shone off the garden's plants, most of which were brown and devoid of leaves from the smog and ash.

Feliciano was continuing in the background happily, a battered football clutched in his hands. "I found a football in Ludi's back room! Well, it's not actually his room, it's the person who owns the house's, but I'll put it back when we're done, honest. So, can we play?"

He noticed Romulus' expression and his smile dropped. "Ve?~ Are you ok, Grandpa?" He let the football bounce to the floor and settled on the ground nearby. "You're worried about fratello again, aren't you?"

Romulus sighed. He didn't mean to worry Feliciano, but with each passing day his concern for his missing grandson grew, to the point where it was beginning to show outwardly. He'd originally been certain that Lovino would meet them in the capital, but it had been days since they'd got there, and there was no sign of him. Romulus wasn't usually the fretful type, but he deeply loved his precious grandsons and the possibility that one of them was lost or dead was beginning to get to him.

"I suppose so," he said lightly, trying to keep up a brave face.

Feliciano blinked quickly and snuggled up close to his grandfather for a hug. "Ve.~ Do...do you think fratello's ever going to come here?"

Romulus smiled and ruffled Feliciano's hair. "Of course. It's just his absence is a little unnerving. You know your brother; we'll worry and worry, and then he'll turn out to have been absolutely fine and all he'll do is be annoyed at us. Besides, Ludwig's brother and his friends are keeping an eye out. We'll know as soon as he turns up."

"Yay!" The smile returned easily to Feliciano's face; he was never one to be kept sad for long. "Can we play football? Maybe it'll help take your mind off things." His hand shot out sideways and eventually pawed the football back into his arms.

"Yes, let's," Romulus smiled. "But I'll warn you, I'm not gonna hold back!"

Feliciano jumped up and began setting up goalposts with empty plant pots. "Ok! But I'm going to win this time!"

"Just watch," Romulus grinned, pinning the football under one foot. "Kickoff!"

With an excited _ve, _Feliciano charged at his grandfather. Romulus flicked the ball up over Feliciano's head and started for the goal at the far end of the garden.

"Not fair!" Feliciano cried and chased after him. He caught up fast and aimed a sliding tackle at his grandfather's feet. But Romulus had been anticipating the move and smoothly shifted sideways. Feliciano kicked out frantically and caught a lucky shot on the ball. It spun off out of Romulus' control and landed behind a shrub a few metres away. Both immediately raced after it, laughing.

Inside the house, Ludwig was industriously working. Although he took little part in the actual running, he was starting to be most of the organisational power behind Antonio, Gilbert and Francis' haphazard operation at trying to restructure the city. This had been how he'd encountered Feliciano and Romulus, and, for some reason, taken a shine to the younger Italian. Despite everything he'd been through, he was still upbeat and outgoing, and Ludwig found this a refreshing change to his brother's usual harsh disinterestedness. It had been this, as well as their search for Feliciano's brother, that had led Ludwig to invite the pair to live with him. Apart from the odd incident with Feliciano's clumsiness, this arrangement was working very well and as long as Ludwig didn't get interrupted while working, he was quite happy.

He was in the middle of alphabetising some files when he felt his phone vibrate inside his pocket. Slightly surprised, he retrieved the device and answered the call.

"Hello?"

A familiar voice answered. "_Yo, West! How's it going?_"

Ludwig smiled at his brother's brash tones. "Not bad. I _was_ in the middle of sorting those papers you were interested in."

"_Huh?_"

"I stand corrected. The files that Antonio and Francis were interested in."

"_Heh. I am too awesome to be interested in such things, West. You should know that. Anyway, the awesome me has some news for you." _

"Do you now? Well, what is it?"

He could clearly hear Gilbert's grin over the telephone. "_You know those guys who've been living at that place you do? Yeah, well, there's a guy here who says he's related to them and stuff." _There was a sudden shout from the other end of the line and Gilbert laughed. "_Heh. He's yelling at me."_

"Who is, Gilbert? You haven't told me who it is who's looking for Feliciano and Romulus."

"_You know, that guy they've been looking for." _

Ludwig paused. "You mean Lovino? Lovino Vargas?"

"_Yeah, that's the guy. Foul-mouthed Italian type with dark brown hair."_ Ludwig heard another annoyed yell from the other end as Lovino lived up to his description.

"He's there at the house? With you?"

"_Yep. Right here._"

Ludwig smiled in relief. "That's brilliant. Feliciano and Romulus will be thrilled. Would it be ok for the three of us to come over right away?"

"_That's why I called, West. Apparently Lovino's been asking after them for a while, it's just the awesome me wasn't around to call you." _

"Alright. We'll be over as soon as possible. I'll see you then."

"'_kay. Tschüss!" _The call promptly ended. Gilbert always liked to be the one to hang up first.

Ludwig set the remaining files on his desk, making a mental note to finish the job later, and jogged downstairs.

When he got outside, Feliciano and Romulus were still playing football. The game appeared to have gotten quite intense and Ludwig was impressed at the complex footwork the two Italians were pulling off. At the moment, Feliciano was in possession, with Romulus hot on his heels. He dodged round a couple of plants and aimed quickly. The ball shot across the garden, swished past the flowerpots and thudded into a tree. Feliciano threw his arms up in the air in celebration.

"Ve!~ I got one, Grandpa! Four all!~" He charged after the football as it plummeted into a shrub, sending up a plume of dust.

Romulus laughed. "So you did! But watch out - I'm just getting warmed up!"

Slightly sorry about having to interrupt their game, Ludwig cleared his throat. "Excuse me, you two? I have just received some news which you'll be interested in."

Romulus looked up and headed over, followed by Feliciano, who had mud in his hair. He dusted his hands off on his dark corduroy trousers, leaving grimy fingermarks. "What's up, Ludwig?"

"I just got a call from Gilbert," Ludwig explained. "He has some good news. It appears that Lovino has finally turned up."

Romulus' face lit up. "Really? That's excellent! I knew he'd be here sooner or later! Where is he?" The worry had been completely lifted from his face, and he felt years younger.

Ludwig was about to answer when he was hit by a flying hug from Feliciano. "Yay! Thank you, Ludi! I'm so glad fratello is ok!" Once again, the Italian seemed impossibly excited.

Slightly flustered, Ludwig laid a hand on Feliciano's shoulder and smiled. "Lovino is with Gilbert and his friends at their house at the moment. I'm not sure how long he's been there, but apparently he has been waiting for a while for Gilbert to establish contact with me."

Romulus stroked his chin with a strange glint in his eyes. "Hmm. That Gilbert seems to be a recurring problem. Perhaps I need to deal with him." Feliciano gave him a wide-eyed look before he laughed raucously. "I'm joking! As long as Lovino is fine, I don't have a problem with anything." He put on hand on his hip and pointed forwards. "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

"Ve!~" Feliciano cried and ran delightedly into the house. "Let's go find fratello!" Romulus gave Ludwig a broad smile before striding quickly after him, calm for the first time in days.

* * *

><p>Hello! Sorry for the hiatus. Work and stuff, you know the drill.<p>

Anyways, introducing Feli, Roma and Ludi to the scene! Happy happy times. :D Couldn't kill 'em off and leave them out - they're too awesome.


	17. Chapter 17

Lovino paced repeatedly in front of the front door, scowling and occasionally checking his watch. It was now early evening, and he was getting restless and irritated.

"Where are they, damn it?"

Antonio sighed from where he was perched on top of the radiator a few feet away. "That's the fourteenth or fifteenth time you've asked that, Lovi. Gilbert only phoned them half an hour ago. They'll be here in few minutes. "

"And _that's _the bazillionth time you've said that, bastard," Lovino retorted impatiently, staring out of the frosted window.

Antonio was saved from having to reply by the arrival of Francis and Feliks from the other house. The Pole was once again looking uncharacteristically subdued, and his eyes were puffy and red-rimmed.

"Oh, have they not arrived yet? I am glad I did not miss anything." Francis smiled patiently at Lovino, who glared in response.

"Not yet," Antonio confirmed. "But soon. You guys alright?" He glanced once more out the window before settling against the wall.

Francis shot Feliks a worried look. "We will need to have a serious discussion at some point, I'm afraid. There have been certain...developments, but they will take too long to explain now, with the arrival of Lovino's family imminent."

"Serious, huh?" Antonio frowned, his expression changing from cheerful to concerned. "Is everything ok?"

"It's...hard to say," Francis sighed. "Feliks is -"

An excited shout from the door cut them off. "They're here! Grandpa and Feliciano and also some other jerk!" Lovino was practically jumping up and down in anticipation, but tried to keep a lid on his emotions.

"Aren't you going to go and greet them, Lovi?" Antonio asked.

"Hell no. That'll make it look like I was worried about them. I'm staying here 'till they come in." Lovino folded his arms and stared hard figures through the glass. Antonio laughed quietly in the background.

A figure ran up to the door and knocked frantically. "Fratello! Are you there?" The voice was muffled, but undoubtedly Feliciano's. Lovino resisted the temptation to fling the door open and jump out at them.

"Yeah, it's me," he replied, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

The door opened and Lovino was hit by a full-paced flying hug which almost knocked him off his feet. A mop of auburn hair buried itself in his shoulder, laughing joyously as the momentum spun the pair in a circle. "Yay! Fratello's ok!"

"'Course he is! He's my boy!" Romulus boomed, walking in and joining his grandsons in the hug. Lovino hesitated for a moment, then wrapped his arms around his family and inwardly enjoyed the euphoric moment. Inside, he was almost crying in happiness and relief.

"You bastards! I thought you were dead!" he scowled, trying to stop himself blushing from all the attention.

Feliciano looked up at him and beamed. "Ve!~ We thought you might be dead, fratello!"

"No we didn't," Romulus laughed, ruffling Lovino's hair. "We've got faith in our boy!"

"Get off me," Lovino scowled, now aware that everyone was watching them. He had appearances to keep up, after all.

"Aw, you're so cute," Romulus beamed, squeezing his elder grandson a final time before letting him free.

Antonio smiled. "Isn't he?" Romulus gave him a surprised look, but was interrupted by Feliciano before he could say anything.

"Ve!~ Everything's ok again now! Oh! - Ludi, Ludi, come in and meet my fratello Lovino!" He sprang away from Lovino and dragged a serious looking guy with neat blond hair away from where he'd been leaning against the doorframe. "Fratello, this is Ludwig! He's been letting us live with him! He's a really nice guy! He does all the organising for Gilbert, Francis and Antonio! Oh, and he can also tie shoelaces!"

"Really," Lovino muttered disinterestedly.

"Yep!" Feliciano continued, oblivious as usual to his brother's annoyance. "He's great! He introduced me to potatoes - I'd heard of them before, but I didn't know they were nice!"

"I hate potatoes," Lovino complained. "I think he should-"

"SAY!" Romulus interjected before Lovino could complete his disparaging remark. "How about we all sit down and have a coffee, alright? And you can tell us what you've been up to. Yeah, let's do that. Come on, Lovino!" He seized Lovino's arm and pulled him into the front room.

There was a short, surprised pause before, "There's a _lot_ of boxes in here. I haven't seen this room before." Romulus poked his head back out into the hallway with a confused expression. "Did you morph all the chairs or something?"

"There should be a sofa in there," Antonio said, wandering in for a closer look. "Hey Francis, d'you mind getting some more chairs? There's only enough seats for four in here, and there's...six, seven, eight of us if Gilbert's around." The Frenchman gave a quick nod and disappeared.

"Someone mention the Awesome Me?" Gilbert announced, barging through the front door with a deafening bang. "Hey, West! You made it! And you brought these guys! Our party is complete." His little bird chirruped happily and zoomed around the hallway.

Ludwig shook his head. "Seriously, Gilbert, you need a filing cabinet or two in here," he tutted. "You'll lose everything."

"Nah," Gilbert grinned, walking in to shift the boxes off the sofa. "I'm too awesome to lose anything." He began to push the containers off the sofa. Boxes and papers cascaded to the floor in a series of fluttering and thuds, their contents flying across the room. "Clean!" he announced proudly, gesturing grandly at the mess before plonking himself on the chair in front of the desk. Ludwig smacked a hand to his forehead in despair.

Lovino dropped himself onto the newly-cleared sofa, trying to pretend he wasn't happy. Feliciano had become almost glued to his brother and sat with their arms interlocked, _ve_-ing in delight. Romulus crashed onto the sofa on Lovino's other side and propped his feet up on a box.

"Ludi! Come sit over here with us!" Feliciano waved at the German with his free arm.

Ludwig looked at the sofa, which had a maximum capacity of three, and three people already on it. "I don't think I'll fit, Feliciano."

"Sure you will! Move up, fratello!" Feliciano shifted up the cushions, squishing Lovino against Romulus and freeing a space against the arm. Deciding an argument wasn't worth the effort, Ludwig sat.

Francis' voice echoed out from the room across the hall. "Antonio? How many chairs do we need? There's only two in here, unless you want me to move the big armchair."

Antonio glanced around. "We'll be fine with that, Francis."

"_D'accord._" There was a slight scraping sound as Francis picked up the chairs. Antonio took one as he reentered the room and Francis settled on the final one.

"I'd break open a bottle of wine in celebration, but we're all out," he laughed.

"Pfft, wine." Gilbert flicked his hand. "Beer is so much more awesome. Almost as awesome as me!"

"So, Lovino, what have you been up to in the week we've been apart?" Romulus smiled, plonking a muscular arm around his grandson's shoulders.

"Meh," Lovino shrugged, unwilling to show anyone just how worried he'd been. "Not much. Hung around the city for a while, then met Feliks - he's the other guy you don't know - and came here. Oh yeah, then I met the tomato bastard, the French bastard and the albino bastard." He jerked his thumb at each of them in turn as he spoke. "Been living here for a day or so. Not much of interest. "

"Aw, Lovi, there's no need to be so harsh," Antonio laughed.

Feliciano looked around with wide brown eyes. "Did they knock you out and tie you up like they did with us? I was scared we were going to die for a while, or they were going to make us do something awful."

"Heh. I said I was sorry about that, man," Gilbert said, trying to build a tower out of ballpoint pens. "Old habits die hard and all that. We were never gonna hurt you anyways." His hand slipped and the pens clattered to the desk. The Prussian glared at them in annoyance with slitted crimson eyes.

Romulus frowned. "Old habits, eh? You said about that when you first met us. What exactly were these old habits of yours?"

"Hehe, that's too long a story to go into now," Antonio interrupted quickly. "Say, Feliciano, how are you guys settling in at Ludwig's?"

Feliciano's face lit up. "Great! Even though the place isn't actually Ludi's, it's really nice. There's a big garden, though it's all dusty at the moment from all the ash. We were playing football earlier..." He continued to chatter, and Antonio was silently grateful for the diversion. "Ve.~ You should come over, fratello. You'd really like it there."

Lovino scowled in disbelief. "Like hell I'd want to go anywhere with a potato bastard, damn it." Ludwig looked slightly perturbed at this and Feliciano tugged at his brother's sleeve frantically.

"Fratello! That was rude!"

Romulus laughed. "Don't worry about it, Ludwig. Lovino takes a while to get used to new people. Still, you should apologise, Lovino. Ludwig's been very helpful these past few days."

"No," Lovino responded flatly, trying to fold his arms around Feliciano's grip.

"Lovino!" Romulus frowned at his elder grandson.

Ludwig waved his hands before violence ensued. "It doesn't matter, really. It's nothing."

"Kesese. Always the peacekeeper, aren't you, West?"

"Fighting isn't always the answer, Gilbert."

"_Oui._ He's quite right. Love solves more problems than conflict ever will."

"You bastards spout so much crap."

"Lovi!~"

"Shut up, damn it."

They continued to chat for some time, with Feliciano, Romulus, Francis and Antonio keeping the situation calm and continuing. Unnoticed by the others, Feliks watched from the doorway, devastated that his situation had been forgotten so quickly, and eventually left for his own room. Gradually the sun dipped below the horizon, taking the golden strands of daylight with it, and everyone only noticed how late it was getting when they began having to strain their eyes through the shadows to see.

Antonio stood up and went to switch on the lights. "It's gotten really late. We must have been talking for hours! Funny how time flies when you're having fun.~"

"Yeah!" Feliciano agreed. "I like talking with you guys. Even apocalypses have their good sides - you get to make new friends!"

Francis laughed. "_Exactement_, even though this isn't actually an apocalypse. It's just...a lot of destruction."

"Good point," Lovino interrupted. "What exactly is all this about? No one answers me when I ask." He transferred his glare quickly to each member of the room, daring them not to reply.

"We ought to be heading back," Ludwig said, checking his watch. "It gets dangerous after dark. By which I mean more so than usual."

"HEY!" Lovino jumped up in irritation. "You just blocked my question you condescending son of a-"

"You're right, Ludwig," Romulus agreed over Lovino's protesting. "C'mon. We should get going." He stood up, deliberately knocking Lovino slightly, who stopped shouting and glared.

"Nonsense! You guys can stay here!" Gilbert grinned. "West can bunk on my floor!" He leapt up and flung an arm around his brother's neck.

"Er, Gilbert," Antonio said. "Hate to rain on your parade, but we're out of sleeping bags. And also, all Lovino's stuff's unpacked here."

Lovino blinked at him unexpectedly. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm not living with a potato bastard anyways." He wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved, but he knew he didn't like Ludwig.

Romulus sighed. He knew Lovino could be impossibly stubborn about the simplest of things if given half the chance. "Alright. How about we go back, and Lovino stays here for the night, then we come back tomorrow and discuss everything. This is quite a complicated situation, and it may take quite some time to come to a reasonable solution."

"Very true," Ludwig agreed. "Shall we go, then?"

"No!" Feliciano wailed, latching himself onto Lovino. "I want to stay with fratello!" His expression easily betrayed the fact that he was close to tears.

"He'll only be here one night, Feli. We'll come back first thing tomorrow, ok?" Romulus smiled. He himself was reluctant to leave, but knew that arguing with Lovino so late at night was fruitless.

"Well...ok," Feliciano reluctantly let go of his brother. "If we'll be back first thing tomorrow. Is that ok with you, fratello?"

Lovino shrugged. "Whatever. As long as you guys come back. Er...I mean, I thought you were dead, so you can't just disappear permanently after you just reappeared, damn it."

Romulus smiled. So Lovino had been worried. "Yep. We'll be back. You can't get shot of us that easily.~" He clapped Feliciano on the shoulder. "Shall we be off then? No point wasting time on sappy goodbyes if we'll be back within twelve hours!"

"Yay!" Feliciano spun around and grabbed Ludwig's hand. "Let's go, Ludi! Oh, wait!" He quickly ran over and gave Lovino a fierce hug. "Bye-bye, fratello! See you tomorrow!"

"Yeah...bye," muttered Lovino, trying to maintain a poker face.

"Bye! Don't get into any trouble overnight!" Romulus grinned, making a three-Vargas hug for the second time that evening. "That counts for you lot too!" he laughed at the other three.

Lovino watched them from the front door as they left. Feliciano was walking backwards along the road, waving constantly back at him, until he tripped over some rubble. Only Ludwig caught him as he fell and saved him from getting hurt. Lovino could hear Romulus' laughter from halfway down the street, and he couldn't help from smiling.

Once they were out of sight he turned back inside and shut the door behind himself. He was slightly disappointed to see them go again, but he was much more relaxed now he knew they were ok, and they'd be back the next morning in any case.

"You alright, Lovi?" Antonio asked quietly through Lovino's musings.

Lovino looked up, slightly surprised. "Uh, yeah. I guess. I'm gonna go to bed now."

"Ok," Antonio nodded. "I'll shift these back to the other house then. See you in a bit."

"Whatever, bastard."

Antonio watched him leave through the kitchen. Lovino had never looked like the type to show much emotion, but he was beginning to be able to spot the little signs. And just now...he'd seemed properly happy for the first time. He'd walked a little taller, seemed a bit less distant. It wasn't much, but Antonio felt happier because of it.

When he returned to his room, Lovino was already curled up in the folds of his sleeping bag with his eyes closed. Kind of cute, actually, in Antonio's opinion, but he wasn't sure about those thoughts or what they would mean, so he ignored it. He smiled briefly at the sleeping boy, then began getting himself ready for bed. Just as he was about to slide under the covers, Lovino spoke abruptly.

"Oi, tomato bastard. Why did everything blow up? Everyone keeps cutting me off."

Antonio froze. "Well...it's complicated, Lovi. I can't explain it now."

Lovino sat up and glared, although the look was hard to see in the dark. "What the hell? Damn it, just tell me already! You bastards keep blocking me!"

Antonio swung his legs off the bed and put his head in his hands. "Lovi...it's not that I don't want to tell you. It's just...it's a long story, and I don't really know much about it. Tell you what. Remind me tomorrow and we'll make it item number three on our meeting agenda, ok?"

"No. Now," Lovino said shortly. He was beginning to get pretty sick of being ignored.

"Not now, Lovi. Go to sleep." Antonio turned away and put the covers over his head, hoping for his own sake Lovino would drop the subject.

There was a rustling behind him which Antonio assumed was Lovino giving up and going back to bed. "Fine. But I'm not talking to you now, bastard. You suck." Antonio almost laughed at the childish response. It really was cute.

"Good night, Lovi. I'm glad you're ok now."

* * *

><p>Long chapter is long. But it needed to be. And I like it, despite that I'm not sure how good it is. I find it harder to write happy chapters than sad ones, but that's just me.<br>Maybe update soon; I'm in an awesome mood - universities are offering me places now~ :) (Yes I am telling everyone)


	18. Chapter 18

Three in the morning. Everywhere was deadly silent, and everyone was fast asleep. Lovino was curled up in his sleeping bag, trademark scowl on his face. Gilbert was dead to the world in a nest of black and white blankets, a feathery yellow blob just visible in his silver-white hair. Thin snores whistled across the ex-dining room as Francis slumbered in a pair of pristine white pyjamas, the hints of a smile playing about his lips.

The entire house was asleep. That is, except for Feliks.

The blond-haired teenager was silently packing his possessions into his backpack, all the while keeping a careful eye on Francis. It wouldn't do to disturb him. Each movement was as slow and calculated as possible to keep from making noise.

The thing was, Feliks hadn't been able to sleep at all. Every time he'd tried, his mind would just wander back to Toris. The Lithuanian's last words echoed and haunted his mind, keeping him from thinking of anything else. He knew so little about the situation that it felt hopeless, yet its every aspect preyed on his mind like an ravenous bear on an injured salmon. It was all very well Francis telling him not to dwell on it. He wasn't the one having to deal with this situation.

Feliks wasn't sure what to feel. His emotions were a whirl in a mosh pit in a tornado's washing machine. One second he was worried beyond belief, then he was angry at Francis and everyone for pushing his problems onto the back burner, then anguish took over and forced a stream of tears from his paining green eyes, then determination to search for Toris reigned and he had to prevent himself from leaving there and then.

He'd tried phoning again earlier, once he'd realised everyone else was preoccupied with the reunion of Lovino's family. He didn't mean to sound like a jerk on that part - he was genuinely happy for his friend's good fortune. He was just dismayed that he'd been forgotten so quickly, especially as how he thought Toris was in trouble. _It doesn't help that barely anyone knows me here. I'd only met Francis a couple times before now, and I've, like, only known Lovino since the journey here. Everyone else is forming partnerships. It's not my fault it's hard for me to talk to people if they're set on something else. _

He sighed quietly and began folding a dark grey sweater. _Oh Liet. I totally miss you. Whoever or whatever is keeping you away from me is totally gonna regret the day they were born, I swear. _

But phoning had returned to being a wasted, frustrating effort. The first time, it had run to the voicemail again, and the second time it hadn't even got that far. It hadn't even connected, and that had hurt Feliks worse than ever. Someone was genuinely now trying to keep them apart, and that in turn was tearing him apart.

"Oh, _ma belle fleur_, you know you want this," Francis murmured softly and Feliks nearly had a heart attack. If one of the others noticed he was going to leave, they'd try to reason with him, stop him going. Thankfully, the Frenchman just seemed to be talking in his perverted dreams. Feliks froze until his heart had resumed its normal tempo, then continued folding his clothes. It had barely been worth taking them out of his bag in the first place.

But one thing was certain. He was leaving. No matter what everyone else said. He was going to stay for the 'meeting' tomorrow morning - which couldn't come fast enough - and if everyone agreed to help, he'd be thrilled to have the assistance. More likely case scenario, though, was that everyone would consider it a thankless and moreover dangerous plan. And that would be when Feliks would leave, why he was packing now. So he could go immediately, so no one could stop him, so as little time could be lost as possible.

* * *

><p>Please don't hate me for this. Things will pick up, I promise! *sob*<br>So tired...


	19. Chapter 19

"Fratello! Wake up!"

Lovino's eyes snapped open to find his brother's smiling face less than three inches away. He yelped and scrambled back in alarm, heart pounding from the shock, and nearly ended up getting tangled in his sleeping bag. "Damn it, Feliciano! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Feliciano bit his lip. "Sorry. Are you getting up now? Grandpa and me are back so we can talk about what we're going to do next!~ Although I don't see what there is to talk about. We're fine living with Ludi already, so if you come over everything'll be great.~" He grabbed Lovino's hand and tried dragging him to his feet. Lovino adamantly refused to move and gave his brother a hard look.

The younger Italian protested for a second before remembering his brother had only just woken up; his hair was a tangled mess and he was still wearing the t-shirt and boxers he'd fallen asleep in. "Oh. Yeah. Well, we're meeting in Francis' room, so come in when you're ready, ok?~" He gave Lovino a quick hug before skipping out of the room. Lovino scowled and rolled his eyes. Some things never changed, the strange moods of younger brothers being one of them.

"Ah, our group is complete," Francis smiled as Lovino walked in fifteen minutes later, now fully dressed and somewhat more awake. "Take a seat, _mon cher._"

The small room was full of people. Francis, Feliciano and Romulus were sat on Francis' camp bed opposite the door, with Ludwig leant against the wall at its foot. Feliks was sat cross-legged next to Antonio on the other camp bed, wearing a nervous expression, while Gilbert, true to form, was sprawled out across the floor on a large green cushion he had inexplicably acquired. A beady pair of black eyes peeked out of the depths of his wild, unbrushed hair.

"Morning, Lovi!" Antonio said cheerfully, patting the space next to him. Lovino was about to reply, but remembered he wasn't talking to the Spaniard and sat down without a word.

"Ok, meeting, meeting...hmm," Gilbert yawned. "What are we meeting for anyway?"

"For the last time, Gilbert," Ludwig sighed. "we're discussing arrangements for the future. Things can't stay the way they are for ever, and various living practicalities need to be discussed. You're just 'too awesome' too listen." He made air quotes around the words, but Gilbert wasn't watching.

"Damn right. So, what's up?" Gilbert stretched out his arms and his little bird cheeped from inside his hair.

"Fratello's going to come live with us, and then we're going to rebuild society and everyone'll be happy!" Feliciano said immediately. He made it sound so impossibly simple to solve.

"_Czekać!" _Feliks cried. "Has everyone, like, forgotten about me already?" More than anything else at that moment, he was scared that no one cared.

Francis shook his head. "_Non._ It's more that no one knows yet. I suggest you explain while everyone is listening now, and then we can decide based on everyone knowing everyone else's situation." This statement received several confused glances, mostly directed at Feliks to request an explanation.

"'K." Feliks took a deep breath. This was the point he had been waiting for, where his immediate future would be defined. "So, you guys know that I came here looking for Liet - uh, Toris - but he, like, wasn't here. At first I couldn't get him when I tried phoning, but yesterday he actually answered-"

"He answered?" Lovino asked incredulously. "I thought the bastard was blanking you?"

"No. He was there yesterday, but...but...he got cut off and he's totally in some sort of trouble, but I dunno what and dunno where or anything and now I can't get ahold of him again!" Feliks' words began to collide and his green eyes were wide in panic. Blood coursed around his veins in noticeable thumps as his heart beat faster and harder, and for a second he struggled to control his breathing. Eventually he pulled himself together and stared hard at the wall in front of him, white-knuckled fists clenched.

"So what are we supposed to do about it?" Gilbert asked bluntly from the floor.

"Uh..." Feliks blinked and fell silent. He had been dreading this question - he'd been thinking about it half the night and hadn't been able to think of a plan that would convince everyone. Despair clouded his mind and his eyes teared up. Was he actually going to be alone in all this?

Lovino leaned across Antonio and poked him in the leg. "Oi. Cheer up, ok? Our situations were reversed the other day, and now things are fine for me. So your friend'll be fine." He suddenly paused and quickly retreated back to his space, bright red and aware everyone was looking at him. He never was very good at sympathy, and this was a great example of why he rarely tried.

"Lovino is right," Francis nodded. "Anguish will get us nowhere. But, that still leaves us a problem. It is completely wrong of us to abandon Feliks to look for Toris by himself, yet...where are we supposed to start searching if we do go?"

"Who's we?" Gilbert asked. "Got a cat up your jacket? You're a you, single. We're a we; me and my little buddy. An awesome we." His little yellow bird cheeped happily.

"It's 'k," Feliks muttered miserably, noticing Gilbert's implied meaning. "You guys don't have to come with."

Antonio clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't talk like that. We're not saying we're not going to try help you. It's just that we need a plan first if we're going to do so."

Romulus nodded. "You can't run into a fight completely on impulse. You need some idea about what you're up against, and where you need to go. Do you know anything, no matter how small, about where your friend - Toris, was it? - might be?"

"Well...he said something about the 'court of' something before he got cut off. And there was a lot of shouting and the line sounded crackly." Feliks' tone was flat and lost.

"Hmm," Romulus frowned. "That's not as good a lead as I was hoping for. All that tells us is that Toris is probably quite far away. Or somewhere with bad reception."

"Why don't you try calling again?" Feliciano suggested.

"Tried that," Feliks said quietly. "I couldn't get through again. He said earlier he's being stopped from answering me." He felt utterly miserable and the fact that there was no way to a solution was making everything so much worse.

There was an unsure silence for several minutes. No one was really sure of what to say. Abandoning Feliks was out of the question, but setting off on a mission with no destination was either suicide or a way to fruitlessly waste your life. And nobody particularly wanted to put forward their own opinion without someone else having already said a corresponding answer.

Feliciano broke the stillness some time later. "Er...I made some cakes earlier. Everyone likes cake, right? Cheer people up?" His tone was brittle, afraid that someone would shout at him for being silly.

To his surprise, Ludwig nodded. "Yes. I'll go make some drinks and we'll take a break, then

we can decide the most practical way of continuing." He pushed himself off the wall and purposefully left. Feliciano rummaged in the small grey bag he'd brought and pulled out a box of small cakes, which he passed around.

Ludwig returned a few minutes later with a tray of drinks. "There was only water and coffee, so I brought a few of each. Take whichever you wish." He placed the tray in the middle of the floor and took a coffee for himself. The tense silence once again reigned.

"I got an idea," Gilbert said suddenly through a mouthful of cake, spraying crumbs across his cushion, which his bird was quick to swoop in and vacuum up. "How about everyone says what they want and think we should do? That way everyone's opinion is voiced equally. I'll go first; I'm staying here."

"Gilbert, that is completely tactless," Antonio chided. "But I agree with the principle of your idea. If everyone is afraid of what the others think before they respond, we'll get nowhere with this. Personally though, I'm willing to go along with the general consensus. If everyone else is staying, I will too. If we're leaving, you've got an extra man on your side." He nodded definitively and gave Feliks a reassuring smile.

"I'm doing whatever Grandpa, fratello and Ludi are doing," Feliciano added happily.

Lovino nodded firmly. "Same here, 'cept without the potato jerk. We've only just met back up; I'm not leaving them again."

Feliks looked around nervously at this. The decision was now in the hands of Francis, Ludwig and Romulus, and he wasn't very hopeful about them agreeing.

Ludwig paused for a moment before answering. "I'm sorry to be the one to say this, Feliks, but, thinking about this practically, there is no way that we can find your friend. We haven't even got a starting clue to follow. It...it is better if you stay here and leave it." He folded his hands solemnly around his coffee cup and stared at the floor.

Romulus nodded sorrowfully. "We cannot stop you from leaving yourself, but none of us can come with you. Perhaps once our lives are rebuilt, we can dedicate efforts to a rescue, but we have no direction, no resources, nothing. It will be fruitless and doomed to failure from the start. I'm sorry." There was a short pause, before the two German brothers nodded their agreement.

Feliks sat still as a statue, utterly devastated. So this was it. He realised he hadn't quite believed that everyone would back out, just because his mission was impossible. Some naïve part of him had thought this would turn out like a movie, where the hero and his friends would set out on a quest against impossible odds and win. But the harsh reality has snapped in like a released rubber band, and now he was suddenly condemned to forging on alone. _No...No! Why?...Liet...I can't...Please...please...What am I supposed to do now? _His chest clenched as he silently fought for breath past the pain that was engulfing him. Bitter tears pooled in his eyes and quickly began to drop onto the covers, each making a soft, defeated noise on contact with the fabric.

The others watched nervously, not daring to speak. They'd been expecting an outburst, but, somehow these silent, heartbroken tears were worse. It was like watching someone lose part of their soul. Even Gilbert didn't have the nerve to say anything.

Finally Francis spoke. "If the situation changes, there is still hope, you know. If you manage to get more information, say a town, or a person's name, then we may yet be able to go-"

"No," Feliks interrupted feebly. He stood up, swaying slightly. "You're right. It's hopeless. I'm just going to go outside now. I want to be alone right now." He walked quickly out of the room and shut the door behind him. Seven pairs of eyes watched him leave, each silently wondering if they'd made the right decision.

* * *

><p>Hello. :) I'm not sure what's up with this. I've been thinking, and my only option seems to be Opus Dei (I think that's what it's called anyways) in order to turn this around. Which will be next chapter adding in all the plot twisty junk. Yeah. Oh, and I promise this is the last chapter in which I am mistreating Feliks, due to aforementioned plot twisty junk.<br>Updates will be slower for a bit. I have less than three weeks in which I need to work my ass off in time for university interviews.  
>Oh, and <em>Czekać<em> means 'wait', I am fairly sure.


	20. Chapter 20

Lovino, Francis and Antonio exchanged glances of varying degrees of concern. "Is he alright by himself like that?" Antonio asked quietly.

"I'll go after him in a few minutes," Francis said. "He will need much time to recover. The poor soul has been dealt a terrible blow and he will not be sure of how to cope for a while."

Romulus sighed. "I don't know Feliks well, but I wish there was something we could do to help, I really do. If there was any other piece of information, just something we could go on, then I would suggest going. But in times like this the practical route is best. I am only looking out for the welfare of my grandsons."

"I can look after myself, damn it," Lovino objected. "Me and him got all the way here, after all."

Romulus acknowledged this with a quiet nod, but the uneasy silence was thickening fast and beginning to strangle any hope of conversation. It was reluctant acceptance, mixed with guilt, mixed with sadness and insecurity. No one was happy with the decision that had been made, but nobody knew how to change that either. Their race had run into a brick wall.

An sudden unexpected noise cut through the room, echoing off the walls. "~_Douce France. Cher pays de mon enfance.~" _It was a thin, bright melody, emanating from somewhere near Francis.

"What the hell is that?" asked Gilbert and Lovino in unison with equal degrees of confusion.

"~_Bercée de tendre insouciance.~" _The song continued, and Francis was quickly digging in one of the pockets of his blue coat. "_~Je t'ai gardée dans mon cœur!~" _

"My phone. Please be quiet," Francis quickly explained, somewhat surprised, before flipping open the device next to his ear. "_Ah,_ _bonjour?"_ There was a short pause. "_Mon cher,_ unfortunately I cannot hear a word. I'm putting you on speaker so I can tell what you're saying, ok?" He clicked a button. "Ok, proceed."

"_Francis? It's Matthew." _A quiet voice emanated from Francis' phone and the room's occupants fell silent as they strained to hear.

Francis smiled. "Ah, Matthieu. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

Matthew's voice was tense and slightly worried. "_Well, it's Alfred." _

"Ah, that little troublemaker. What's he up to now? You tell him if he keeps ignoring you I'll come over and confiscate his burgers, don't you worry." Francis gave a knowing laugh and leant back against the wall.

"_It's not that. You know I told you a few days ago he was in trouble? Well, it's got worse." _

Francis sat up again, obviously shocked. "Worse? How?"

It was clear Matthew was getting increasingly panicked. "_I can't say much...I swore to Alfred I wouldn't disclose details as I don't know whether my phone's being monitored. Also he won't let me know some of what's going on. But it's really bad. Arthur's in a bad mood all the time, which is a sure sign of something gone wrong. And we had to move yesterday. Alfred woke me up in the middle of the night and made me pack everything. We were driving away when I saw a group of people in the rear view mirror go into the house with guns and a few minutes later there was a really big explosion! Alfred didn't say anything but I knew they were trying to get us! Francis, I'm scared and I don't know what to do!" _

"Matthew, calm down. Everything will be alright, I promise. Where are you now? Can you tell me?" Francis was by now very worried. Matthew was usually calm and good at coping with unusual situations. He had to be, with a brother like Alfred.

"_We're at Arthur's house. You know where, right? It's just that you were always good at defusing these situations and I was hoping you could come and help." _

"Of course, _mon cher_. Now, you just relax, ok? It may take me a few days to get to you, but I will be on my way as soon as possible. Don't worry. Big Brother is going to come and solve everything."

Matthew sounded relieved. "_Thanks, Francis. I was hoping I could rely on you. I've got to go now - I'm not supposed to be using the phone and I don't want Alfred or Arthur to find out. But you are coming, right?" _

"Not even fear, fire or Englishmen will stop me," Francis replied confidently. "Keep safe, _mon cher, _and do not let your brother do anything stupid."

"_I'll try. Goodbye." _

"_Au revoir."_ Francis clicked his phone shut. "Well, it appears I have a change of plans."

"Who's Matthew?" demanded Lovino, who had become very engrossed in the proceedings. It was all very covert, and he had a gut feeling that there was more to this than there seemed.

"Matthew is my...well, he's like my adopted brother. I took care of him when he was younger, and he is very dear to me. If he is in trouble, then I must go and help him."

Gilbert looked thoughtful. "Matthew...Hmm. Blond guy, about Lovino's age, kinda quiet, has a liking for maple syrup? Brother's that loudmouth guy who's always eatin' burgers? I'm in. Sounds like a party." He grinned confidently, sensing one of his beloved fights.

Francis looked surprised. "I did not expect backup on this, but if you are willing to come, I will gladly accept."

"I'm in too." Antonio stood up and smiled at his friends. "We've always been a team, and any friend of yours is a friend of mine."

"Well, I guess that is decided then," Francis said gratefully.

"Ve! Ve! Ve! I wanna come too!" Feliciano suddenly cried, waving a hand in the air excitedly. "I'm not sure what I can do, but you guys probably need the help."

Romulus frowned and gave his grandson a severe look. "Feliciano, are you sure? This is a very dangerous idea from the sounds of it."

"We've got to help, Grandpa! They're our friends, and friends stick together and help each other." Feliciano's expression was curiously determined, and Romulus recognised it as a mirror image of his own and Lovino's expressions whenever one of them got an idea that they were going to be really stubborn about.

Romulus paused, then grinned and enveloped his grandson in a massive hug. "My boy, you're so sweet. I'm so proud of you. If that's what you wish, then we'll go too."

"Oi." Lovino had stood up and was poking his grandfather. "What about me? Don't I get a say? This sounds like a suicide mission to me." He was also slightly jealous no one had said they were proud of him, but he wasn't going to say that aloud.

"Don't you want to come, Lovi?" Antonio put an arm around the Italian's shoulders. "You'll be fine; you've got your grandpa and me to protect you.~"

"I don't need your protection, bastard," Lovino grumbled, flipping his arm up and whacking the Spaniard in the face. Antonio retreated, wincing and giving Lovino sad eyes, which he painstakingly ignored. "Fine, I'll go. But if stuff goes wrong, I'll be the one saying 'I told you bastards so'." He sat back down on the rumpled bedspread, pouting.

Ludwig, who had been looking silently thoughtful for the past few minutes, spoke up. "It seems to me that, now we have a directive and destination, we should speak to Feliks. This is probably as good a place as any to begin his search, and he will not be on his own this way."

"_Bon idée_, Ludwig," Francis smiled. "It would certainly improve his mood somewhat, even if it is just getting out of the house. I will go fetch him now, and then we can discuss leaving." He stood up and stretched luxuriously, before heading out.

Feliks was sat in the garden, or what remained of it. Dust floated in soft clouds around the patch of grass he was sat on, dancing in delicate pattens in the gentle, almost unnoticable breeze. The few plants left undamaged by shockwaves were wilting and covered in dust, but Feliks wasn't bothered by this. His life had pretty much imploded in his face. A bit of dirt wouldn't make a difference.

It was hard to believe everyone had decided against his plan, even though he'd half been expecting it, it had rendered him almost unable to think. There was a golf-ball sized lump in his throat, and he couldn't stop shaking. He felt almost like he was about to be sick.

What really annoyed him the most though, was that he had left his bag in Francis' room when he'd left, so he was still stuck here for the time being until he could retrieve it without everyone stopping him from leaving. He'd spent most of the last twenty or so minutes cursing himself for being an idiot, and the rest staring blankly into space, trying to get his thoughts to stay straight for long enough to develop a plan.

"Feliks?" Francis spoke cautiously behind him.

Although the sudden noise surprised him, Feliks didn't respond, but turned his head slightly from where he was sat to indicate that Francis had his attention. Upon seeing this, Francis came closer and crouched down next to him.

"I have some good news for you, Feliks. My friend Matthew called, and we now have a direction for leaving as we are going to help him out."

Even thought there was little chance of the two events being linked, hope rekindled ever so slightly in Feliks' heart. "Really? Do...do you think Liet's there?" His eyes had already lit up and the faintest hint of a smile played about his lips.

"I do not know, but it is possible the two incidents are connected, and even if they are not, it is as good a place to start as any."

Feliks leapt to his feet, determination once again pounding through his body. "Let's go! Here I come, Liet!" He marched off inside before a startled Francis could utter another word.

* * *

><p>I know, I know, short chapter. But it is what it is, and the chapter break works best here.<br>Yay for unexpected plot turns. Opus Dei, much though? *sighs* Thoughts on what's happening appreciated. Imma not sure what's going on atm. :S  
>Oh yeah, and France's ringtone is off this: [link] I tried to find something original, but couldn't find anything that worked so in the end I was just like 'screw it'. Obvious.<br>Btw, updates will be very slow over next couple weeks, due to me being all overworked and interview-pressured and that. Sorry.


	21. Chapter 21

Fifteen minutes later, the eight were back in Francis' room, this time with a much louder atmosphere. Antonio, Francis and Gilbert were huddled in a corner, muttering softly. Feliciano was jumping about spouting ideas about the trip, Feliks loudly trying to convince everyone to get a move on and leave, and Lovino was shouting at people to shut up, being almost unanimously ignored.

"Every second we spend here is, like, a second wasted! Let's get going!"

"I can't abandon Mattie, you must understand that."

"My ears are hurting, you bastards! Shut up!"

"Is that really a wise move?"

"What about a car? Do we have one? Can we have one? I wanna drive!"

"Piyo piyo!"

"HOLD IT!" Ludwig yelled, silencing everyone. "We can't just rush into this. A trip this serious in conditions like these needs detailed planning. If we leave now, with little or no preparations, our ship will run aground within days."

"We have a ship?" Feliciano asked, confused.

Ludwig groaned. "It's a metaphorical ship, Feliciano. But my point remains valid. It is now–" he checked his watch "–ten-oh-seven in the morning. By my approximate calculations, it will take the rest of the day to prepare to leave, if we are to gather sufficient provisions for a prolonged journey, so I suggest that we depart first thing tomorrow."

Everyone looked at him, expressions varying from agreement to disbelief to completely pissed off.

"But-" Feliks began to protest, but Gilbert interrupted.

"Don't bother. Once West's got a bee in his hat there's no stoppin' him. But he's got a point."

Romulus nodded. "Exactly. He's quite right. For one thing, all of Feliciano's, Ludwig's and my things are back at Ludwig's house. Once we've packed, half the day will be gone, and its probably better to make a new start on a new day."

"Ok," Antonio said. "So we need to prepare. What's first? Location?" His tone was suddenly businesslike, as if planning like this was the norm.

Francis stepped forward slightly. "_Oui._ As you may, or may not, have heard, we are headed to the house where Matthew is staying. It is some distance away; a hundred and fifty, maybe two hundred miles, and hence, it will take us perhaps a week to get there."

"That's madness!" Lovino exclaimed. He was internally pissed off about having to set off on yet another long journey, when only he'd just ended one.

"Madness? This is SPARTA!" yelled Gilbert, then dropped onto his cushion in hysterics. Lovino, Feliciano and Ludwig, who this comment had completely mystified, stared at him incredulously.

Francis rolled his eyes and continued. "Therefore, we will need to make sure we have the supplies for that time. We don't know what sort of terrain lies between us anymore, and there is every possibility that we will have no opportunity to replenish our provisions. We will need to find all the food we can get our hands on, feeding eight for over a week."

Discussion continued in this manner for several hours, concluding with each member of the party being allocated a task to complete after packing their own things. Romulus advised them to pack light; from his military experience, long marches with overloaded packs were not fun in the slightest. He and Feliciano were sent back to Ludwig's house to pack plenty of food and water. Ludwig himself was in charge of transferring their organisation of the city to some friends, and to see if a vehicle was available. Lovino was paired with Feliks again, with the task of highlighting potential routes on one of Ludwig's maps. Francis, Antonio and Gilbert, however, refrained from disclosing their task, and spent a decent percentage of the preparations huddled in a corner whispering.

Some time later in the afternoon, Feliks and Lovino had finished the mapwork to the length that the latter could tolerate. They'd managed to get several possible routes, including likely places which could be used as supply points if they still existed. Deliberations had stopped shortly after Ludwig walked in to check on them, ending with a one-sided shouting match and Lovino throwing pens at the German's head before storming out.

Feliks had abandoned working by himself, as they'd pretty much finished by then, and had left to help the others pack. So Lovino was currently back in his room, sketching absent-mindedly on some scrap paper he'd found. Or maybe it was important paper, he didn't care either way. He was still pretty angry, mostly at Ludwig. There was something about the guy that just rubbed him the wrong way. Mainly the fact that he was so strict and serious, but also that he'd introduced Feliciano to potatoes. And also that he seemed to get on with Feliciano. That bastard didn't deserve to be friends with his brother.

Eventually Lovino got absorbed in his thoughts and was half-asleep when the door banged open and Antonio walked in. His cobalt blue shirt was slightly dusty, indicating he'd spent some time outside, and for some reason there was sawdust in his floppy brown hair.

"Hiya, Lovi!" he grinned, cheerful as always. "You finished already?"

Lovino glowered. He really didn't feel like this sort of conversation at the moment. "Hours ago, damn it. Why can't you bastards get a move on?" The remark was an exaggeration, but Lovino was irritated.

Antonio crossed to his bed and pulled a suitcase out from under it. "We've got a lot to do, Lovi. This is a serious, well, I guess you could call it a mission, really. You heard earlier that we've got to make sure everything's done right so we're all safe and that."

Lovino grunted disinterestedly, hoping Antonio would shut up.

"I'm serious, Lovi," Antonio laughed. "We don't know what we're getting ourselves into. But we're going to help Francis' friend, so don't try to excuse yourself with the danger." He started folding clothes into the suitcase, careful to maximise the space.

"I'm not a coward, damn it, and don't start confusing caution with that."

Antonio suddenly checked his watch. "Ah! Sorry, Lovi, but I've got to go sort something out, ok? Shouldn't take long." He snapped the suitcase shut and stood up.

"Why should I care if you're around or not?" Lovino muttered darkly behind his sketchpad. "Stupid jerk."

"Aw.~ So harsh, Lovi," Antonio chirped, crouching down beside the Italian. "Do you really hate me so much?" Lovino blinked and drew away without a response, unsure as to why his heart was beating so fast all of a sudden. Antonio laughed good-naturedly and stood up again. "Got to go now. Things to organise."

Lovino sat up. "What things?"

"Bye-bye, Lovi! I'll be back in a few minutes." Antonio gave Lovino a bright smile, and headed out. He'd been completely blanked. Again. And that was the final straw.

Lovino scowled at the Spaniard's retreating back. He'd about had enough of his attitude, and it was about time that he got to know a bit about what was going on. Quickly, quietly, he got up and followed Antonio.

Feliks was searching for some sellotape to fix a broken box when he spotted Lovino darting suspiciously towards the back door, determination and anger fighting for dominance on his face.

"Hey, like, what are you up to?"

Lovino jumped. "Nothing!" He turned back around and carried on outside.

Feliks followed. Whatever he was doing, it looked interesting, and in his infinitely good mood at the moment, he was quite curious. "Really? Doesn't look like it."

"No." Lovino sighed. "Fine. I'm following the tomato bastard 'cos he's acting suspicious. Come if you have to, but shut the hell up."

Feliks grinned, his instincts right again. This was interesting. He immediately mimed zipping his mouth and followed Lovino outside. Sure enough, Antonio was cutting across the flattened fence a few metres ahead of them, heading towards the 'business house' as Feliks called it in his mind. Didn't look suspicious, but Lovino probably knew something Feliks didn't.

The two quietly slipped through the garden after Antonio had shut the door behind himself.

"Hehe. I feel like a spy," Feliks laughed quietly as they skulked past the wilting brown bushes. Lovino glared at him and motioned to shut up. He put one ear to the glass of the back door and listened for a second, then nodded and turned the handle. They snuck inside, listening carefully for sounds of anyone approaching.

Inside the hallway, they could clearly hear Antonio's voice coming from the room opposite the kitchen, the one Lovino had woken up in originally.

"Yep, I'm sure. Although I feel awful about keeping everyone else in the dark like this." At this, Lovino's eyes lit up in confirmation. Feliks grinned and shot him a double thumbs up.

Suddenly Lovino's eyes flicked around and he pulled Feliks across the hall into the front room. "Stay here," Lovino whispered, "If they come into the hall and we're there listening, we're screwed." He peered ever so slightly around the doorframe into the hall, trying to catch what was being said in the room next door. Feliks silently leant forward, ears cocked in expectation.

"Too true," Antonio said. They'd obviously missed a section of the conversation - this made no sense from what they'd heard a minute ago. "There are some parts of this that I wouldn't want Lovi to be caught up in. Or Feliciano or Feliks." Lovino frowned slightly at this. The last part seemed to have been a hasty addition, and it confused him a little.

"Yeah, well, I got the stuff out here, so we better get on with it." Gilbert's voice. There was a loud thud and a slight rustling. "What are we taking with us?"

"We're packing light already, so we have to make sure what we take fits under everything else we have," Francis replied. "So, small things, mainly."

More rustling. "I've got a wheeled suitcase that's pretty big," Gilbert said. "Could easily hide a Kalashnikov or three at the bottom if I put my clothes on top of them." Lovino's jaw dropped._ Weaponry?_ _What could Antonio possibly want with those?_ He noticed Feliks giving him a puzzled look. He obviously hadn't understood the reference.

"AK-47s," Lovino mouthed, and Feliks' expression morphed into a match of confusion and surprise. They weren't expecting conflict...were they? Who were these people?

"_Parfait_," Francis replied. "We can't take much else big though, unless Ludwig manages to find us a car. Then we could fit a couple boxes in the boot without much trouble."

"Not much chance of that," Antonio said. "Vehicles of all kinds are scarce due to fuel shortages. And the fact that most were blown up anyway. We'll have to make do. What else are we taking?" More rustling, this time accompanied by an odd metallic thunking. Lovino was becoming increasingly nervous, and Feliks was beginning to wish he wasn't as nosy.

"Can't go wrong with semis," Gilbert grinned. "Three each is a good number, I'd say. One concealed on your person, and two in the luggage. Few enough to hide well, but enough to kick ass."

"Ok. What do we have...? Much less of a range than I'd like to have been able to salvage, really. We did lose a lot on that first raid last week. Ah, here we are. I'll take two of these, and my usual." The rustling stopped, and the lack of vision infuriated Lovino. He really wanted to see just what they were up to.

"'K. I'll have...let's see, a Glock 35, a Sig Sauer 9mm, and a M1911. Oh, and I'd better take a Luger for West. If he discovers we're armed, he'll want in. Don't worry, he won't tell. It'll trouble his new little friend." Gilbert let out a short laugh, and Lovino refrained himself from punching the wall. That bastard better not be hinting what it sounded like he was hinting. If he was, his brother'd soon be singing soprano.

"As long as he doesn't," Antonio said worriedly. "Let's get a move on. Francis, grab your choice of pistols. What else?"

"Wish we hadn't lost that anti-tank rifle," Gilbert said absently. "Sucks. Anyway, knives, also according to preference, I'm taking a couple grenades, maybe a knuckleduster. Oh, and ammo. Lotsa that. Don't know when we'll find more. Split it up in your luggage according to the guns you've got. And hide it well." He snapped his fingers. "I'm a genius. A case of ammo! You know, like a suitcase."

Antonio groaned appreciatively. "Your jokes are awful, Gil."

"Awe_some_, perhaps. Wait, no perhaps. They _are_ awesome."

There was some minutes of various thudding and rustling, then a sound like a zipper being done up. "Right. Let's get moving," Francis said in a tone of finality. "I'll phone a friend of mine - he'll want to pick up this stuff if it's lying about and it'll be a shame for it to fall out of our company forever. Better shift what we're taking to our rooms now. Tonio, do you have your axe?"

"'Course," Antonio said, and there was a swishing sound. Feliks shuddered, guessing what was causing it.

"_D'accord_. Back to normality now, I guess. I'll find a way to seal this door once I've packed. Otherwise everything'll get taken before my friend can get here. Or worse, we'll get found out by the others." Francis' voice took on a note of concern.

"Keep your wig on, Francis," Gilbert sniggered. "The others are busy. No one'll come in here, 'cept West and he'll think we're leaving it if we don't take enough to be noticable. You'd better make sure you seal this place though. Be a shame to lose this much firepower. Let's go."

There was a series of hurried footsteps as the trio walked out the door and Lovino hurriedly flattened himself back inside the front room, hoping he hadn't been seen. Feliks shot him a concerned glance. Suddenly, he wasn't at all sure about this trip any more. Danger did not sound attractive in the slightest.

The door clicked shut and slowly, the footsteps died away. Lovino let out a relieved breath. "Whoa. This is frickin' _mental_. What the hell are those bastards up to?"

Feliks shook his head. "Dunno. And I don't, like, wanna find out and end up on the end of one of those guns. Let's get outta here. And not speak of this again."

A strange spark lit up in Lovino's eyes and he stroked his chin thoughtfully. Feliks' heart went cold with dread. "Back in a sec," Lovino said as he ran out hurriedly.

"Like, what the hell are you doing?" Feliks hissed. He watched Lovino open the door and dart into the other room. His jaw dropped. Weaponry of all kinds filled the small space, mostly in boxes, from rifles and shotguns to grenades and handguns. A row of knives hung from one wall, with a space missing halfway along the line and what looked suspiciously like a samurai sword at one end. Packs of ammunition were piled up against one wall, at least as high as Feliks' knee. It was a veritable arsenal of weaponry, worthy of a mafia or army barracks. Feliks wasn't sure to be curious or terrified. "Holy shit..." he breathed.

Lovino snatched up a Beretta 92 from one of the boxes and spun it on its trigger guard around his finger. "Nice." He nodded appreciatively, then tucked the weapon into his jeans and pulled his shirt down, concealing it from view

Feliks didn't think he could get any more shocked. "You're just, like, gonna keep that?"

"No, I'm taking it for a walk round the garden and then putting it back in its friendly little box," the Italian replied with deadly sarcasm. "'Course I'm keeping it, jackass. Oh, and you'd better not tell anyone, damn it." Lovino poked around in the pile of ammo and pocketed a couple of small boxes.

Feliks nodded slowly, partly as he didn't want to betray Lovino, partly 'cos it was always a bad idea to piss off a guy with a gun. "'Kay. Can we go now please? If they come back we're dead!"

"Whatever." Lovino double checked the gun was hidden, then shut the door to the room and followed Feliks out back. His heart was pounding. He'd never owned something so deadly before, and the weapon gave him a new confidence. Confidence that, at the moment, was overshadowing the hidden inner fear that this was going to get dangerous.

The two furtively returned to the other house, eyes darting constantly for any sign of discovery.

"Right. I'm gonna go finish some stuff," Lovino said, giving Feliks a pointed look that clearly said _you'd better not rat me out_. He glanced into his room and, finding that Antonio wasn't there, bolted inside to hide his chrome-and-polymer secret.

A minute later, Feliks collapsed on his camp bed, trembling. He could hardly believe what had just happened.; this sort of thing just couldn't be real. _Shit...if this is just what's happening to me, I don't think I can understand what kinda danger Liet's in. I hope he's ok, wherever he is. _

* * *

><p>This is in anticipation of some nice fight-y scenes later on. I like combat scenes. They're fun to write. But not yet. Later.<br>Don't ask where I'm going with this atm, as, apart from the next 3-4 chapters which I've almost got, I'm not quite sure.

BTW, If anything begins to get confusing, please ask. It is quite possible that I will write something based on what I know, but the reader doesn't, and confuse the hell outta things. :3


	22. Chapter 22

_It was freezing in the office, but then, the man who owned it was used to the cold, and he didn't care a bit for his subordinates' comfort. If they tried complaining, they'd soon find themselves complaining to the business end of a pistol, with about six seconds to apologise or be parted from their brains. Needless to say, complaints had long since been scarce. _

So everyone had to make do as best they could. Which was fairly difficult, considering the permanent aura of sub-zero weather that hung over the compound, even in July and August.

The young man crouched in the tiny nook between the wall and a cobwebbed bookcase was wearing three jumpers to combat the cold, and still feeling the chill. He could see his fingers turning blue when he pulled them out of the space under his arms where he'd put them in a futile effort to keep the extremities warm. A draught whistled past his face, biting at his exposed skin as effectively as a knife, and he shivered. His breath came up in clouds from his mouth, drifting gently upwards past his long brown hair.

But the freezing conditions were the least of his worries. Right at this moment, he was supposed to be down on the lower ground floor, helping with the cleaning, as was his Friday routine now. It was one of the conditions of his recent release, after all. If you could call it a release, that was. It wasn't much of a release if you were stuck inside a fortress surrounded by twelve-foot-tall concrete walls.

Yet it wasn't release that Toris was looking for. At least, not yet. His target was a keycard which, at precisely nine-fifteen pm, would be in the top draw of the desk in the office he was currently hiding in. The card was the key to a wall safe in another room. In the safe, or so he'd heard, was his confiscated mobile phone, his last remaining way to contact Feliks.

It was eight fifty-six, by his watch, so it wouldn't be long until the peril began. And the pressure was beginning to get to him. Each passing second convinced him more that this wasn't a good idea, and his brain was continuously insisting that he should get out of there while he still could. But his heart, his silly, suicidal heart, just wouldn't listen.

Toris poked an emerald eye out from his hiding place and glanced about the office. Still empty. Well, that was obvious, really, otherwise he wouldn't still be here to comprehend that. It was a surprisingly plain space, containing only the desk, three chairs (two in front of the desk, one behind), the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf he was hiding behind, and a long window stretching along the width of the far wall. This was where the draughts were coming from, as the glazing on the panes was far from sealed. Toris gave it a disapproving glance, pulled his outermost jumper closer to him and ducked back into his hiding space.

Not a moment too soon. Footsteps sounded from the corridor outside, like a damped gong. There was an ominous quality to them, or maybe that was just Toris' nervousness getting the better of him.

The office door swung open with an ear-wrenching creak, and the hinges moaned as it closed again. Toris shut his eyes and tried not to breathe loudly. Now the room had other occupants, any wrong move could be his last.

There was a dull _flump_ as someone sat down on the other side of the room, followed by an annoyed sigh. "Why do people not just do as I tell them? They'd be so much better off if they did." It was a fairly high voice, for a male, that was, laced with a sweet and innocent quality that was strange and almost hypnotic to the ears.

"They should always do as you tell them. And nothing else." This voice was harsher, but definitely feminine, one Toris didn't recognise. There was a second person here? Toris hadn't been expecting that. But it didn't change his plans. He just had to wait.

First Voice – or rather, Ivan, to use his name – sighed again. "It's not easy though. Everyone is out to get me."

"No, no," Second Voice convinced. "Everyone loves you. As do I. No one wants you gone."

"Yes they do. Dmitri's team reported back that Jones survived the other day. No doubt he's plotting against me somewhere, gathering new forces in an effort to bring me down. Oh, how I long for his blood to be spilt against the snow, for his bones to be dashed against the jagged rocks. He will not bring me down, not now my time is drawing nearer."

"We need to get rid of him. Properly." Bloodlust filled Second Voice's words, and this time it wasn't the cold that made Toris shiver.

"_Da_, but we don't know where he is. Or who he is allied with. Or what he is planning."

Second Voice growled. "I told you we shouldn't have released the journalist. He knows something, _bolʹshoĭ brat_. He has worked with Jones, you know this, he knows about the plot against you. You will learn _nothing_ from just having him work for us."

"Journalists often know nothing, despite them being nosy _ublyudki_. And, of what they do know, most is rumour and lies. Remember those wasted three months we spent interrogating that journalist from the South Coast last year? Useless. No, I think he knows nothing. After all, most people will crack if you kidnap them and throw them in a cell for three days without food or water." His voice turned cold and sinister. "And if it turns out he does know something, I can always introduce him to my trusty faucet." With a shudder, Toris realised who they were talking about, and he felt like being sick. Dread consumed his veins, and he held his breath, frozen with fear. Only one thought kept him from running from the room at that very moment, the reason he had come here in the first place.

He closed his eyes, trying to black out from his situation, trying to forget that he was anywhere but here. _Clear your mind, Toris, you need to calm down or you'll get discovered. _Shut out the present, it was the only way. Focus on nothing. Slowly, Ivan's voice began to fade from his mind. It was working. Mind blank, keep it blank. Then, green eyes danced across the patterns in front of his vision, a bright laugh rang in his ears.

He fought to keep his breathing quiet as he listened to his memories, and he gradually began to calm down. His attention returned to the other voices in the room, but he'd missed so much of the conversation that the words only confused him. He had to have been zoned out for at least ten minutes.

"...and then you'll know. So you can destroy him, and then your plan will come to fruition. You'll be more powerful than anyone, _bolʹshoĭ brat._ Succeed beyond anything." A predatory note came into the girl's voice. "And if you do, we can get _married_."

Ivan yelped. "No! I let you come in because I thought you would listen! Don't start this again! Go away!" He scrambled over the desk and ran from the room, followed closely by his sister, if the footsteps were anything to go by.

Stunned, Toris counted to ten to make sure they were gone, then let out a relieved breath. Even though he hadn't been discovered, that had been nerve-wracking beyond belief. His heart was still pounding against his ribs; he could almost see the pulse wrack his veins. Slowly, he glanced out of his hiding place and pulled himself out of the tiny space.

A sharp jolt of pain shocked him as he unclenched his fists and he looked down, suprised to see a quartet of angry red u-shapes across each of his palms. He hadn't even realised he'd been digging his nails into his hands like that. Now he knew, the pain was quite intense.

No time for distractions though. Ivan could be back any second. Toris leapt across to the desk and tore the draw open, seizing the small white plastic rectangle from on top of the pile of papers within. But he didn't allow himself the luxury of relaxing, or even looking at his prize. No, he wasn't done yet. There was no time for pauses.

He poked his head out of the the door and, upon seeing no one in sight, slipped out and down the corridor. The corridors were all the same; tall, cold concrete with no decoration, and it was more than easy to get lost in their endless, identical maze, but Toris had deliberately put time aside to get to know the layout of the labyrinthine building, and so knew precisely where he was going.

It took him less than a minute to locate his ground-floor destination. Frankly, it was beyond a miracle that he hadn't encountered anyone so far. They'd surely question his presence. The back of his mind was still certain this was a bad and all-too-risky idea.

Heart pounding, eyes darting, he stole into the room, surreptitiously closing the door behind him. It didn't take him long to uncover the safe, hidden behind a painting of a lonely snow-covered town. He swiped the card through the slot at the side and a small smile briefly lit up his face as a little green light rewarded his progress.

The inside was smaller than he expected, but he guessed there were other such safes dotted around the compound. He didn't know where, though. It'd taken hell just to get the location of this one.

But it didn't look promising even so. There was a short stack of files, each with a neat label in Russian on the binder. To their left was a laptop, an unassuming generic slab of grey plastic, which Toris disregarded.

The only thing left in the safe was a metal box labelled '_prakticheski bespolezno_'. This didn't look good. Uneasily, Toris took the box out and flipped the catch.

There was a small pile of paper on the top, the writing either too shredded or blurred to make out anything beyond a word or two. Toris took them out and placed them back in the safe, then turned his gaze back to the box. The rest of its contents was smashed, burnt, crumpled and buckled beyond recognition. It was a strange and unnerving collection, yet somehow representative. Why had Ivan had such items kept? They were obviously useless, even if the label on the box hadn't been clear enough.

Then his eyes fell on the twisted dull silver object under a smashed clock, thin tangled wires oozing out of the distorted casing. Yet, beyond its destruction, it looked somehow familiar. _No. It can't be. _

Almost in slow motion, the box slipped out of his fingers and tumbled to the floor, its contents spilling across the bare boards in a muffled, drawn-out smash. Toris' heart sank, and any hope remaining in his heart was shattered. There was no way anyone could ever repair it; it looked like it'd been stood on by an elephant, then dropped in a lake for a few years. He'd done all this for nothing.

He stood motionless with his eyes shut for an indeterminate amount of time, utterly numb. His last lifeline had been cut off. There was no possible way of locating Feliks now, not that he could see. He'd been too slow and he'd lost everything. If only he'd said more in that one conversation he'd been able to snatch. But instead he'd stuttered nonsense, left out any information that had been of any use.

Apart, probably forever.

But a little voice in the back of his mind, his paranoid, rational side, interrupted his self-pity. _Mope later. Someone probably heard that drop, they could be coming any minute, and if they do, you're dead. Put everything back and get out of here, before you become any more frozen to the spot. _

Toris shook himself. As much as he wanted to ignore and stay despairing, that part of him was right. He needed to go. Once he was safe, or at least relatively so, then he could mourn and come to terms with the situation. After a brief hesitation, he tucked the crushed phone into his jacket pocket. It was useless, but for some reason it didn't feel right leaving it. He shut everything back in the safe and ran.

Uniform corridors flashed past, but Toris' mind wasn't in where he was going, letting his feet guide him automatically.

He paused for breath two corridors across from Ivan's room. It was imperative that he was calm and collected if he was to return the card. But his mind was still spinning, it wouldn't stay straight.

After three minutes with still no change, he realised he'd have to risk it. Drawing a slow, careful breath, he set off again, but at a much slower pace.

"What are you doing?" someone asked suddenly. It was the harsh voice from earlier, and Toris nearly died of fright there and then.

He forced himself to turn around. He wasn't dead yet, but one wrong move could be his last, and he needed to look innocent now.

As he turned, his frightened gaze was met by a pair of icy violet eyes, framed by cascades of platinum hair held in white ribbons. A girl, one he'd not seen the likes of before. Like an iceberg; beautiful, but cold. Toris caught his breath.

"What are you doing?" she repeated, her tone impatient and unforgiving. Pale, slender fingers tapped a tattoo on the knife hanging from the belt around her dark blue dress.

His tongue struggled to form coherent sentences. "Mr...Mr. Braginski must have dropped this. I f-found it on the floor." The card almost slipped from his trembling fingers as he extended his arm out.

The girl scowled, watching the card as if it was a bomb. "Hmm. Did you now." It was more of a statement than a question, but there was still a curl of suspicion in the words. There was a long, tense pause, and Toris could almost imagine the clock ticking away his last seconds.

Suddenly, she snatched the card from Toris' hands. "He'll want this back then. Now get back to wherever you're supposed to be," she snapped, spinning on one heel before marching off.

Toris swallowed hard, head spinning slightly. That had been all too close. He'd practically been able to fell the blade of a knife on the edge of his neck. And for what? The smashed, irreparable tangle of circuitry in his pocket that was of no use beyond a paperweight. He had failed. And was now virtually alone with no way out.

* * *

><p>Translations: (they're phonetic Russian, if they're wrong, blame Google Translate)<br>bolʹshoĭ brat big brother  
>ublyudki bastards<br>prakticheski bespolezno virtually useless

Erk. I am seriously overworked atm. I get these interviews done with, then discover I've got a list of jobs the length of my arm that need to be done in the next week. OTL. Anyway, ranting aside. A wild Toris has appeared. I'm not sure about the plot for this chapter, as it wasn't originally meant to be here. I just felt like writing Toris. (He's my fave :3)

As I'm gonna keep saying, if there's stuff that's confusing, plz let me know (unless it requires the release of spoilers).


	23. Chapter 23

Half six in the morning, barely even light. Feliks rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. It was way too early for sane people to be up. Again, he hadn't slept much the night before either; he'd been too anxious about setting off the next day. There was a feeling in his gut that somewhere, somehow, he'd find Toris on this journey.

Lovino, with his new secret concealed safely in his bag, stood next to him and Feliciano, nervously watching the rest finalise preparations. "Oi, bastards. I'm dying of old age here. Get your worthless butts moving."

"Be patient, Lovino," Romulus told him. "There are a couple of things to finalise, then we can leave." The elder Italian was sat on the faded grass out the front of the house with his backpack leant against one denim-clad leg, watching the others with interest.

Lovino rolled his eyes and scowled. This whole thing was getting bloody confusing, in his opinion. To sum it up, he was setting off, at the insistence of his brother, on a madcap mission with a group of people he barely knew (and several of whom he hated), to go help another guy he hadn't even met, right after the world had gotten blown up for some reason that everyone kept avoiding. And he still didn't know very much about anything that was supposed to be going on. Add the time of the morning to all this, and Lovino was pretty much ready to blow up himself. In the angry way, that was.

"Hiya Lovi!~ You all ready to go?" Antonio wandered up and stood next to Lovino. He had an oddly-shaped black case between himself and his backpack with a neck that stretched up past his messy brown hair, and the handle of a silver-and-black wheeled suitcase in one hand.

"Get the hell out of my face, bastard." Lovino was _not _feeling tolerant this morning.

"Aw~. I'll put your language down to early morning blues, huh? Don't worry, the walking will wake you up." He tried laying a hand on Lovino's shoulder, which was promptly knocked off.

Lovino groaned. "Don't remind me, damn it."

"You'll be fine, you'll see. And if you get tired or your feet hurt too much, I can always carry you~." A cheerfully innocent smile brightened Antonio's face. How could anyone be so happy this early in the morning?

"Go. The hell. Away," Lovino growled flatly, lining his knuckles up to plant in Antonio's face, who was unfortunately oblivious to Lovino's ill mood.

"Aw~. You're so harsh today, Lovi! Cheer up! Fusosososo~!" Antonio gave Lovino a bright smile and spread his arms out as he spoke.

Time to put this bastard down a peg. Lovino drew back his fist, before launching it at Antonio's smiling face. But to his surprise, instead of an impact and a satisfying crunch of nose, he felt a hand close around his wrist and clasp the hand, drawing it close to Antonio's chest and pulling him after it.

Feliciano laughed as Lovino wrenched his fist out of Antonio's grip, glaring. The younger Italian wandered across the front lawn and settled next to his grandfather in the grass. "Ve~. Looks like fratello's made a friend, nonno."

Romulus looked over at them and chuckled. "_Sì_. It's nice to see your brother enjoying himself for once.

"Yeah~," Feliciano replied happily, twisting grey strands of grass into a braid.

Feliks folded his arms. "But it's still not, like, getting us going anywhere. When are we leaving?" He was having trouble keeping still now, throat and breathing clenched in anticipation.

"Piyo-piyo! Piyo-piyo!" A sharp cheeping promptly sounded out from the small feathery yellow alarm sat on Gilbert's shoulder, and everyone turned expectantly.

"Yo, guys," the Prussian announced loudly. "The awesome me says we're ready to set off, so we're going now. Lead the way, Francis! _Gehen wir!_" He pointed a finger up the road and marched off, silver hair and dark blue clothes contrasting brilliantly with the golden morning light. His little bird took off from his shoulder and zoomed off ahead, chirping happily.

"Always the drama queen," Ludwig sighed. The younger Beilschmidt brother had a giant pack half as big as he was strapped to his back, and from the look of it, there were at least two tents in there, along with a large quantity of food, a survival pack and two steel pans hanging from underneath.

Feliciano peered at him with surprise, wandering in a circle to see the pack from all angles. "Whoa!~ You've got a lot of stuff there, Ludi. Isn't it really heavy? You're so strong.~"

Lovino seized his brother's arm fiercely, determined to get him away from Ludwig. "Come on, Feliciano. The sooner we set off, the sooner we arrive. And stay away from damn potato bastards."

"Aw, but fratello-"

"Shut up."

The group – all eight of them – set off up the ruined road with a positive, expectant pace. They rather stood out against the current levels in what was left of the city; a depressive scattering of bedraggled souls scratching for survival. But it was fairly hard to kill the mood, the start of a mission gave everyone an objective, and the direction was a welcome change from the unknown and almost monotonous living of recent days.

"So," Romulus smiled. "We've got about seven days to go, and twelve-to-fourteen hours a day spent walking. Who knows a good way to kill time?"

"Ooh! How about 'I Spy'?" Feliciano chirped immediately, clapping his hands together.

Gilbert shrugged. "Gotta try everything once. We've got long enough. I'll go first. I spy, with my awesome eye, something beginning with 'A'."

"You've got to at least _try _make it difficult, Gil," Antonio laughed. "I believe you saw 'awesome'?"

Gilbert scowled. "Aw, man. You got it first time. You guys know me too well."

"Nope," Antonio replied. "You're just predictable. Ok, my turn. I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with...hmm...'R'."

"Is it me?" Romulus grinned, as the group turned a rather scorched-looking corner. They were about passing the last of the buildings on the city's edge, ahead lay a wasteland of ash-covered fields and heavily trampled rubble.

Antonio shook his head and laughed. "Nope. Keep guessing."

"Was it a rat? I've seen a couple of those sneaky little guys around." Gilbert asked, eyes scanning the undergrowth.

"No. Haven't seen one of those."

"Ooh, ooh! Is it 'ruins'?" Feliciano queried, pointing towards a nearby pile of rubble.

Antonio flashed a brilliant white smile. "_Sí_! Well done, Feli!"

"Yay! Ok, I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with...uh...ooh! 'B'."

Feliks zoned out of the game after a while; it was getting rather predictable as the rambling fields and patchy wreckage became repetitive. The lump in his throat was a constant reminder of his nervousness and his chest was stuck high and tight. It was becoming increasingly hard to keep his mind on anything; every so often something would remind him of Toris and he'd start wondering again, constantly formulating possible plans of action and scenarios of fantasy. This, however, tended to either send his heart soaring and crashing, or frighten him so badly he wanted to hide in a dark hole and never emerge. His phone lay heavy in his pocket as if it were a made of lead, a symbol of both hope and dread, yet he knew it would never ring again. It was just too far against the laws of probability.

He shook his head sharply. Such thoughts would only kill him on such a long journey. He should just enjoy the ride as it came, at least for the time being. Running a hand through his wheat-blond hair, Feliks turned his attention back to the others.

"Tree," Lovino droned, sounding bored, but with a strange gleam in his eyes.

Francis nodded and smiled. "Right! Your turn, I believe."

"Whatever. I spy, yadda yadda yadda, it begins with 'S'."

"The Sun!" Feliciano cried, pointing at the golden orb with one hand over his eyes to shield them from the bright morning light.

"Shoes?" Francis guessed simultaneously.

"S-the-Awesome-Me!" Gilbert shouted.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "All wrong. The last one being wrong on so many levels." He booted a pebble absent-mindedly and sent it clattering off down the road.

"Is there a squirrel anywhere? Either that on these stones on the ground like the one you just kicked," Romulus contributed, stroking his short fuzzy beard thoughtfully.

"Nope. You give up?"

Feliciano shook his head. "Ve~. Can we have a clue please, fratello?"

Lovino sighed. "Fine. There are seven of them."

Antonio raised an eyebrow. "Seven? That's a lot of something to be hanging around in a deserted field. It wasn't a group of some sort of bird beginning with 'S', was it?" His answer came clear with another shake of Lovino's head.

There was a short silence as most of the group scanned the area in puzzlement. The only exception came from Ludwig, who couldn't decide whether to view the proceedings with confusion or despair.

"Give up yet?" Lovino asked, now completely bored of the game.

"Ve~. If it's not 'shirt', then yes."

"There are eight shirts, Feliciano, not seven. You're wearing one too. And the correct answer is 'stupid bastards."

"Lovi!~" Antonio interjected petulantly. Lovino just rolled his eyes again and turned away to avoid the 'kicked puppy' look that Antonio was directing at him. If he didn't watch himself, sooner or later he'd be apologising to the jerk.

Ludwig glanced at the digital watch on his wrist. Two hours down. Only an estimated ninety-eight left to go, if he didn't die of exasperation by then.

* * *

><p>Hi! No, I have not died, or forgotten about this. Just stressed, overworked, and attacked by ideas for other fic(s). Mainly Land Beyond Dreams. It's fun to write :3<p>

Yeah, so this chap's a bit filler-ish. I'm gonna try up the pace a bit; what I've realised is that this story's moving _seriously_ slowly.  
>I had way too much fun writing the I Spy scene in this though. Thought it'd be better not to make it really long though.<p> 


	24. Chapter 24

It was nearly dark on the sixth day of walking when Francis finally admitted they were nearing their destination. The group was exhausted and half-starved, suitcases and bags carried almost as dead weight. Feliciano had collapsed earlier in the day and Ludwig had now resorted to carrying the Italian piggyback, his own luggage held in his hands. He'd fallen asleep a few hours ago and had his head rested on Ludwig's shoulder, auburn hair falling in front of his eyes. Feliks wasn't in much better condition, but was at least able to keep walking, albeit with intermittent complaints. He was currently in debate with Gilbert and Lovino as to which part of the journey sucked the most. Feliks thought it was the lack of shelter and plumbing, Gilbert said it was the constant walking, and for Lovino, it was definitely the company.

The group was heading down a dirt track between two overgrown privet hedges, the dry ground crunching beneath their feet. It had been nearly a day since they'd seen any sign of civilisation, and vacant fields spanned the view for miles, bleak and motionless. Distant grey mountains lined the horizon in the west, behind which the sun shone fading golden rays into thin orange-tinted clouds.

Francis had just flipped his phone shut. "I've just let Matthew know that we will be there within half an hour. The house should be just beyond those hills." He nodded vaguely in the direction of a group of smallish tree-covered hills.

Gilbert groaned. "It's about bloody time; this guy is some recluse. All this walking is not awesome. I've said this before, but my feet hurt like hell from all these rocks."

"Unfortunately, it is unavoidable. There is a better conditioned road to get there, but it's only faster if you're going by car," Francis replied. "The back route cuts out a good couple of miles."

"As long as we're nearly there now," Ludwig said. He nudged the sleeping Italian on his back gently. "Feliciano. We're almost there. Do you want to walk the last bit?"

Feliciano yawned and blinked sleepily. "Ve~. Huh? We're nearly there? Well, I'd much rather still be carried, but I don't want to trouble you, Ludi. I'll walk a bit if we're close." He unhooked his arms from around Ludwig and slipped down onto the ground. "Where's my bags?"

"I still got 'em," Romulus reassured him. "Don't worry."

"Ve~. Thanks Grandpa!" Feliciano smiled, and skipped ahead brightly, renewed by the prospect of a journey's end.

Twenty-five minutes later, the group reached the top of a hill, somewhat out of breath. The landscape was spread out before them, picture perfect in the light of the sunset. Rolling hills were bathed in gold, a far cry from the destruction of the cities.

Francis pointed down towards a grand country house nestled between the hills, extensive grounds sweeping out before them. "Our destination. We have made it at last."

Gilbert whistled appreciatively. "We get to stay there? Sweet! Let's go, fast." He set off with renewed energy down the hill, suitcase bumping chaotically off rocks and bushes.

"Whoa. You, like, never said this guy was rich, Francis," Feliks grinned, setting off with the rest after Gilbert.

"Well, it's not Matthew's house, it actually belongs to a friend of ours. But you are right, the house is exquisite, save for the appalling taste in decoration." Francis laughed. "I have been here once before; if you are not used to the lifestyle it is magnificent."

"Are you sure your friend won't mind all eight of us turning up out of nowhere, mostly uninvited?" Ludwig asked cautiously.

"Of course not. Matthew is a kind and gentle soul." Francis' tone was light, but Ludwig and Romulus both noted his slightly unsure expression. He had just said the house didn't belong to Matthew. Would its actual owner be as welcoming?

"Oi, bastard," Lovino called from a few dozen metres ahead. "Do we just walk in the gate or what?" He was stood in front of a pair of tall metal gates, one hand on the bars, the other on his suitcase, looking towards the building with an expression of awe.

Behind an ornate wrought-iron fence, a grey flagstone path curved gently towards the house. It was an imposing building, reminiscent of a palace or the domain of a lord of old, its tall stone walls sweeping up three storeys and across perhaps a hundred metres. Beautiful ranges of flowers and well-pruned trees bordered an immaculate striped lawn in the picturesque gardens. Gargoyles kept watch from the eaves, wings pulled back and teeth bared. Behind them, a glinting array of solar panels covered the roof. Lights shone out from behind the closed curtains of a couple of the windows.

There was a slight movement at one of the ground-floor windows and, seconds later, a young blond-haired man ran out and up the path to Francis, smiling in relief. He had a pair of half-frame glasses in front of pale violet eyes and a long curl springing out of his wavy hair.

"Francis! You came!" His voice, obviously the one on the phone, was quiet, but happy, with an accent that sounded vaguely Canadian.

Francis swept him up in a hug. "Of course, _mon cher._ I could not ignore your plea for help, _non_?" He smiled fondly at the Canadian and stepped back. "_Mes amis_, this is Matthew Williams. Mattie, these are some friends of mine who decided to join me on my epic quest. You already know Gilbert and possibly Antonio, I believe?"

Matthew nodded and stared shyly at the floor. "Hi."

"This is Gilbert's brother, Ludwig, my friend Feliks, and the family Vargas, Romulus, Lovino and Feliciano." He indicated each with an eloquent gesture.

"Nice to meet you," Matthew said, smiling timidly. "Please, come in. Oh...you might need to be prepared for a scene, possibly. I sort of haven't been able to tell Alfred you were coming yet." He pulled nervously on one of the tassels of his green hoodie and motioned at the group to follow him up to the house.

"Ah, _mon cher, mon cher_, do not worry, I will make sure that he isn't mad at you." Francis smiled reassuringly and laid a hand on Matthew's shoulder.

"It's not just him. Arthur's been really moody lately too, because of...well...I'll explain later."

Francis raised his eyebrows. "_Ohonhonhon._ Arthur is in on this too, is he? So, things are going to get interesting." He had a strange look on his face.

They ascended a short set of steps in front of the tall oak front doors and Matthew gently turned one of the gold handles. The door opened slowly to reveal a grand marble hallway and a sweeping red-carpeted staircase. A large painting hung from the wall, which was intricately painted in blue and gold designs.

"Wow. Could this place be anymore stereotypically grand?" Lovino muttered sarcastically to nobody in particular.

"Hello? Alfred?" Matthew called tentatively. "Are you there?"

There was a short moment of silence, then a loud voice called; "Did I hear someone ask for the Hero?" A figure appeared dramatically at the top of the staircase; a young man who looked very much like Matthew, only with shorter hair, wearing a brown bomber jacket. He gave the party a dazzling smile, then started. "Whoa! What's with the invasion, bro? Who're all these dudes?" He jumped up and slid down the banister so he was level with the rest of them. A short blond cowlick stuck rebelliously up from the top of his head, shaking slightly from his recent movement.

Matthew flinched slightly. "Er...these are friends of mine, I guess-"

"Hey, it's Francis!" the other guy grinned. "How've ya been, man? It's been ages! What brings you to these parts?" He pulled Francis into a hug and slapped him cheerfully on the back. The Frenchman gratefully accepted the gesture and smiled.

"Matthew invited me over. So, of course, I came, and brought some friends too. Quite the party, isn't it? _Chacun,_ this is Alfred Jones, Matthew's brother."

"Alfred _F._ Jones, dude," Alfred interrupted. "Don't forget the F.. It's important. Anyway, a party, huh? Awesome! I hope Artie's got some booze around!"

"It's not actually a _party, _Alfred," Francis corrected. "Although I wouldn't say no if there was one organised."

A new voice suddenly interrupted everyone. "Oi, Alfred, you git, where are you? I've got some impor- oh, bloody hell, it's the frog." The annoyed tone belonged to a scruffy-haired blond man with a pair of large black eyebrows, wearing a dark blue jacket and red neckerchief. His emerald eyes were fixed on Francis with an expression of intense dislike. "What are _you_ doing here? Shouldn't you be off molesting someone like you usually do?"

Francis' eyes gleamed and he stepped towards the newcomer, motioning to take his hand. "Ah, but I would much rather be getting reacquainted with you, _mon beau ami_. I have sorely missed your company these past months."

"Get lost, you wino," the other snapped, jerking his hand away. "Save your weasel words for someone who gives a crap. You still didn't tell me what the bloody hell you're doing in my house."

Francis stopped, a petulant expression on his face. "What have I ever done to deserve this treatment? I am simply here as a favour to dear Matthew."

"Oh, really?" The Englishman put his hands on his hips, glaring. "What favour would that be?" His question was largely directed at the Canadian, who jumped slightly and bit his lip.

"Er, well, it was because of, er, the trouble Alfred's been having recently. I thought we needed some more help to, er..." His words faded under the Englishman's stern expression.

"Your idea is quite correct in principle. I have been trying to persuade Alfred that this cannot be won by four people, if it is to be won at all. But why, out of everyone we know, did you have to invite the frog?" He sighed. "But it's too late now. And, as a gentleman, I will honour your agreement. Matthew, your guests look exhausted. Show them upstairs; we should have enough rooms for them all. I will go tell Kiku that we will have, ah, eight extra for dinner. Excuse me." He turned smartly on one heel and walked out another door, giving a quick glimpse of a sparkling kitchen before it shut behind him.

Antonio sighed. "Arthur's as austere as ever, I see."

"Dude! What does that even mean?" Alfred questioned loudly. "Ah well. Who cares. Welcome to Kirkland Hall, by the way. Sweet pad, ain't it? There's all sortsa stuff here! Anyway, nice to meet you guys. I gotta go find out what Artie was after before the traditional cross-Channel rivalry came up. See ya!" He pushed his glasses back up his face and ran towards the door Arthur had left through.

Matthew sighed. "And this is what I live with... Come on. I'll show you guys to your rooms. I think one or two of you might have to share though...I don't know if we've got twelve bedrooms. I've been here a week and still don't know the place well." He took off walking up the carpeted stairs, everyone following his lead.

"This place is amazing!~" Feliciano whistled appreciatively. "Look at the pretty paintings, Grandpa! Did you say this was a hall? Does that mean that Mr. Arthur is a lord? Should I have bowed to him or something? I've never met a posh guy before!"

Romulus laughed. "Calm down, Feliciano! From what I've heard, the Kirklands are only descended from noble lineage - they don't go by the titles anymore."

"You know Arthur?" Matthew asked.

"Not before today, but there's a lot about his family in the history of the country. Sir Ignatius Kirkland led the Charge of the Free at the battle of Beacon Hill during the Civil War, and William Kirkland was a key figure in the development of the internal combustion engine. They were quite prominent historical figures, although from what I've heard their last-of-line is a bit of a recluse. Still, with a place like this out here I can't say I blame him!' Romulus laughed again, the sound echoing off the high walls.

"Yeah. When I'm rich, the awesome me is going to own a place like this. Only, you know, less pompous and more awesome." Gilbert craned his neck around, admiring the various treasures and masterpieces on display.

"Watch out, Gilbert," Antonio warned. "We're guests here." Before anyone could reply to this strange remark, he added "So, where did you say we would be sleeping?" They were now walking down a magnificent corridor on the second floor lined with broad wooden doors. A thick carpet squished luxuriously beneath their feet.

Matthew looked uncertain. "Well, I'm not exactly sure how many bedrooms there are in this house, so we'll have to try accommodate who we can. The left wing of the house is mainly bedrooms, both this floor and the one above us." He looked around, hesitantly pointing at the shining wooden doors. "Er...there's...two, three, four, five, six, seven on this floor, and there's the same number on the floor above, I think. So, I guess you can pick which you'd like, except for Arthur's master bedroom at the far end of the third floor, and the ones Kiku, Alfred and I are staying in." He stopped in the middle of the corridor and looked around expectantly at the group.

"I would like the room I stayed in last time I was here," Francis decided immediately. "It had a lovely view of the rose garden behind the house. Ah, _les belles fleurs_." A dreamy expression crossed his face. He picked up his suitcase and swished back to the staircase to go to up the third floor.

"The awesome me demands a top-floor room too! Bagsy the biggest one!" Gilbert grabbed his case and raced after Francis, his yellow bird in chirping pursuit.

Ludwig sighed. "I'd better get the room next to him, or we're going to end up in some trouble. Excuse me." Shaking his head, Ludwig followed his older brother.

"Ve~? Ludi, Ludi, wait for me!" Felicano cried, and zoomed after Ludwig.

"Ah, Feli! You forgot your bags again!" Romulus laughed. "Silly boy. But he's so cute, so it makes up for it.~ I'd better go after him too." The wild-haired Italian dragged the two sets of bags after the cavalcade heading upstairs, leaving Feliks, Antonio and Lovino watching in slight disbelief.

Matthew held a hand out after Romulus had gone. "Er, there's no more rooms upstairs now. The other two there are Arthur's and Kiku's. I guess you can take your pick of these, now. That one there's mine, though. Oh, and the one with the Superman poster on the door is Alfred's, although he doesn't always sleep in it, and Arthur might have taken the poster off as he says it 'lowers the tone'. This room here's the bathroom for this floor, but a couple of the rooms are en-suite, so you might end up not needing it. Er... I'd better go check on the others, if that's ok."

Antonio smiled. "Of course. We'll be fine sorting ourselves out. Thank you very much for your help."

"You're welcome," Matthew replied, before turning around and heading back along the corridor.

"So, we've got to pick rooms now~!" Antonio said happily. "Who's where?"

Feliks yawned. "I, like, don't care much. All I'd like at the moment is some food, and then sleep for, like, a couple days till my feet stop hurting. Laters. Call if there's food." He pushed open the nearest door and disappeared behind it. All that was on his mind was exhaustion.

Antonio turned. "Well, Lovi, here we are. Our journey's end, for the moment."

"Save it, bastard," Lovino muttered irritably. "At least I don't have to share a room with you now."

"Not unless you want to.~" Antonio chirped, but his smile vanished when he caught Lovino's expression. "Ok, ok. You want any help unpacking?"

"No. I can manage." Lovino disappeared behind a door of his own. Antonio sighed, wondering why the Italian was so hard-to-read. One minute he was fine talking, the next he was annoyed and said nothing but insults. Did he actually like people or not?

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><p>Ya. Not much be happening in this chapter, but I have plans for combining the next two or three together to get this moving a bit more towards le exciting bit.<br>Sorry for the slow updates of slowness. Been busy with Christmas and work and attacked by ideas for Land Beyond Dreams. It's fun to write. :)


	25. Chapter 25

**Hi! Apologies for the long delay in updates. Been busy (damn you exams) and getting attacked by fic ideas, especially Land Beyond Dreams, which is a fic I actually have an idea of where it's going in the end (and the only published one). Fun times. But unfortunately, due to a lack of ideas of where to lead this, updates will be slower than for other things for a while. I've got a couple backed up on my HD, but after that I need to put ideas in straight lines instead of the tangled web that it currently is. I'm rambling. /shot  
>In return, here are two chapters as one. Enjoy~<strong>

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><p>Since he was done unpacking, Lovino had decided to go and explore the house. was seriously impressed with the amount of rooms in this place. He'd seen some big houses before, and the one he used to live in hadn't exactly been small, but Kirkland Hall beat them without effort. Pretty much every room that needed to exist was here; an enormous two-storey library stocked with books of all kinds, a billiards room, a home cinema, even a grand ballroom complete with long buffet table and orchestra stage. It was a veritable palace, and Lovino felt envious that some people were just given this sort of luxury by being born to rich guys.<p>

He padded down a long corridor at the right-hand side of the first floor, having just finished investigating the ballroom. Every wall in the place was decorated; either with paintings, ornaments or sculptures. A short distance later, he poked his head around the most recent door he'd found; a set of mahogany double doors labelled 'Music Room' in elegant brass letters. The room was almost completely dark, but after a second Lovino located the light switch and bright tubes flickered on across the room's ceiling.

Inside lay a paradise for almost any musician. A grand piano stood in front of sapphire velvet curtains to one side, spotless wood gleaming, with a large set of shelves of music against the wall. In a complete contrast, at the other end, a giant set of speakers loomed on either side of a hi-fi system, complete with long rows of CDs and LPs.

Lovino wandered over and flipped curiously through the titles. _Led Zeppelin, Muse, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Bullet for my Valentine..._he'd never heard of any of these bands. Arthur must have a strange taste in music.

Disinterested, he turned around and looked about the rest of the room. Half a dozen chairs were scattered about, most with a pile of sheet music on them. Past a drumkit and half a dozen electric guitars, lay an arrangement of more traditional instruments, most inside their velvet-lined black cases.

And right at the end of the line, outside its case, was a gleaming maple violin. Intrigued, Lovino picked it up and plucked gently at the strings, sending short notes reverberating around the room. It was a good quality instrument, that was obvious. He'd used to play, before everything got blown up, and had secretly enjoyed it. Both he and Feliciano were quite musical, although the elder sibling preferred to keep his talent quiet. Musicality didn't exactly suit the image he liked to project. The only people who knew were Romulus and Feliciano, and that was the way Lovino preferred to keep it. The fewer cracks in his shell, the better.

He glanced around tentatively, before picking up the bow and putting the instrument to his chin. Drawing the bow across the strings, he marvelled at the magnificent sound produced by the first-rate instrument. He closed his eyes and gradually became absorbed in the music he played. One song flowed seamlessly into another, from a Mozart waltz, to a Rossini aria, to Vivaldi's _Four Seasons. _The gentle tones of the melodies swept across the room, their beauty transporting him away to a world unknown to neither knew nor cared how much time had passed.

As the shimmering final notes of _Winter_ died away, there was a sudden burst of quiet applause and a voice sounded behind him. "Lovi...that was truly beautiful. You never told me you played music." Antonio was sat on one of the chairs nearby, eyes shining.

Lovino nearly jumped out of his skin. "What the hell? How long have you been here, damn it?" He quickly put down the violin in a completely futile attempt to hide what he'd been doing.

"A fair while. I didn't say anything because I didn't want you to stop playing. It was brilliant."

Lovino averted his eyes, sure he was blushing. "No it wasn't. Shut up. Get lost."

Antonio stood up and crossed the room to stand in front of him. "You have a real talent there, Lovi. And that's saying something. I've known some really good musicians."

"Er...thanks...I guess.. Damn you," Lovino muttered, face now crimson. He wished the earth would crack in two and swallow him to save him from this humiliation. But somehow, he still felt ever so slightly happy at the praise.

"Uhwaa! Your face looks so cute, Lovi! Just like a tomato!~" Antonio couldn't help giving the embarrassed Italian a hug. "Aw!" Lovino froze in the embrace, unsure of how to react.

Antonio drew away and smiled broadly at Lovino. "Speaking of tomatoes, I was sent to find you twenty minutes ago, as Matthew said dinner would be in fifteen minutes. We're a little late, but it was worth it!~ Come on!" He took Lovino's hand before the Italian could protest and pulled him out of the room.

"Stupid tomato bastard," grumbled Lovino, still bright red. "I swear I'm gonna kill you."

Antonio laughed. "Course you are, Lovi. Course you are. Now let's get some dinner, shall we? The others'll be wondering where we've gotten to!~" He dragged the Italian down the corridor and towards the dining room.

The dining room was enormous; the long table easily seating the twelve with plenty of space left over. Like many of the others, the walls were dominated by large portraits, many of the subjects of which sharing the same large black eyebrows of the mansion's owner. Sculptures and floral displays lurked in the corners, casting long shadows from the light of the crystal chandeliers on the ceiling.

Matthew had introduced everybody to Kiku Honda, a quiet, polite Japanese man who was also helping Alfred. He had quickly inquired about their well-being, then bowed and retired to serve dinner. Apparently he had been designated cook ever since he, Alfred and Matthew had moved in with Arthur. No one had quite dared to ask why, although Francis had been hiding a derisive snigger behind his hand when the matter was brought up.

The group was now dressed – to the best of their ability – somewhat more formally for the occasion, from Francis' open-necked white shirt to Arthur's immaculate black five-piece suit, and the entire effect completed the feeling of grandeur.

But the atmosphere at the table was as dark as the evening sky outside. As soon as Arthur had entered, an awkward silence descended on the room, and the Englishman's face was a permanent glower. Even impulsive Gilbert and talkative Alfred were quiet. Matthew had made a weak attempt at conversation, but, being naturally restrained himself, it hadn't lasted long. Feliks was slightly intimidated by all the new faces and large rooms and kept up an apprehensive silence.

Kiku entered with the starters, setting a small plate of bacon and brie tartlets in front of each person. The food smelled delicious, and, although there was still no talking, the atmosphere relaxed slightly.

A few minutes later, Feliciano, who had been hungry through most of the afternoon, finished inhaling his tartlets and decided to work up the courage to talk. Everyone had been glaring and twitching for ages. It wouldn't be a very fun stay if everyone hated each other. "Ve.~ Those were delicious, Mr. Kiku.~"

The black-haired man blushed slightly at the praise. "Thank you very much, Feliciano-kun."

"You're welcome!~ Ve.~ This is a really beautiful house, Mr. Arthur. Grandpa says your family is famous."

Arthur coughed slightly. "That is a...slight exaggeration. In the past my ancestors have played their part, but I am by no means famous." He speared a piece of pastry with his fork and captured it neatly between his teeth.

"That's not what Grandpa said. Sir Iggy Kirkland was a hero or something!"

"A hero?" Alfred interjected, spraying crumbs across the table. "You want a hero, got one right here!" He jabbed a thumb at his chest and grinned, although his smile was somewhat marred by a mouthful of pastry.

"Swallow your food before talking, Alfred, you ill-mannered idiot," Arthur sighed, waving his now empty fork at the American. "My ancestors have been prominent historical figures, but, as I said, that is all past. I do not intend to carry on my family legacy in that way once this charade is over."

Francis set down his own knife and fork. "Ah, so you are intending on playing a part in our little adventure, once our problem has been explained fully?"

"Of course! I have no choice now that bloody idiot-" here he pointed at Alfred, "-dragged me into this. Which is why my house now appears to be base of operations." He looked a cross between annoyed and merited at this.

Kiku stood up and began to collect plates now everyone had finished eating, the fine china circles balanced effortlessly on one hand, then departed back through the door to the kitchen.

"You have to admit, this is a good place though," Romulus said. "If you've got a car, here's both secret and accessible. And although I don't know too much about this at the moment, secrecy is probably going to be a valuable feature."

"You don't know the half of it, dude," Alfred grinned. "We nearly got blown up the other night 'cos these dudes discovered where I live!" For some reason, he seemed proud of this, despite the fact that the incident had scared the life out of his brother.

Lovino yawned. "Why are these bastards trying to kill you anyway? What's their problem?"

Alfred waved a hand. "Long story, bro. Plus Artie'd get pissed if I started talking about warfare and that at the table. It's 'not dignified', apparently." He shot a toothpaste-advert grin at Arthur, who returned him a disapproving look.

At this point, Kiku returned with his arms stacked with half a dozen plates of smoked salmon and lemon risotto.

Alfred chortled. "Mind you don't drop those, dude! Kaboom! Mess ALL over the place. Hahahaha!" His loud laugh was a combination of infectious and annoying. Kiku merely smiled wryly and disappeared off to the kitchen again to fetch the rest of the meals.

For a minute there was silence again as everyone tucked appreciatively into the food. Lovino was pleased to get food that was both Italian and hadn't been stored during a week of travelling. Feliks hadn't experienced risotto before, but was willing to try, and, as before, found Kiku's cooking delicious. The Japanese man seemed to be able to adapt quickly to a variety of cuisines. Even Gilbird was pecking away happily at a small dish of rice.

"Heh. You guys are _ousted_ now," Gilbert grinned. "I could live off this food."

Antonio laughed. "The point of food is that you _do_ live off it, Gil."

"Shuddup! I was meaning it's awesome. You guys suck at cooking compared to this. Even Francis. Only wurst is better. Oh, and potatoes. And beer." Gilbert nodded resolutely and stuck another large forkful of food in his mouth.

"I am honoured," Kiku replied, attempting a bow, but being prevented by the table he was now sat at. "It is not often I have guests to cook for."

Arthur nodded in agreement. "It's not often I have guests to cater for, especially not so many."

"Having people over is great," Feliciano chimed in. "You get to show friends a great new side to you, and do stuff that you don't usually do. Sleepovers are even better!~ Once, me and my friends had a sleepover, and we all snuck out in our pyjamas and had a barbecue outside at midnight!~ But one of my friends knocked the tray and set my pyjamas on fire. It was pretty scary but I wasn't hurt.~"

"Bah, Feliciano, you don't half ramble," Lovino grumbled across the table at his brother.

"Play nice, Lovino," Romulus chided, grinning. Lovino scowled, but didn't dare oppose his grandfather.

Along the table, Matthew smiled. It was nice to have such company talking happily in a safe place, and he was happy just to listen as long as his brother wasn't making a scene. The small polar bear padding about his feet chewed contentedly on a piece of salmon, sharp teeth making short work of the salty fish.

Gilbert grinned and put down his fork. "Ya know, it really makes up for the week of outdoors, a place like this. Although, the awesome me bets we'll be on the move before too long. Asses to kick and all that crap."

"Yeah, but it's, like, hard to think about that when we dunno whose asses we're gonna be kicking," Feliks pointed out. "Or where we're going...wait...you said not to, like, talk about this now. Forgot that." Slightly embarrassed, he stopped talking and dropped his gaze. Once again, he was reminded why he preferred not to talk to people he didn't really know.

"You know, just a thought, Alfred," Antonio said cheerily, "it would probably be a good thing if we were to have at least some idea of what we're up against. You know, just to think a little about forward planning."

"Your opinions are of little or no value, Carriedo. This is my house, and we will discuss problems when I deem fit," Arthur intervened sharply, his voice unexpectedly cold.

Everyone jolted into an uncomfortable silence. Several pairs of eyes flitted between Antonio and Arthur like a championship ping-pong match. The tension returned, thick and sharp.

Antonio swallowed. "Very well. But I am rather tired now. I think I will go to bed. Thank you for the delicious meal, Kiku." His words were strained and forced, his expression taut, repressing anger. He quickly but quietly put down his cutlery on his yet unfinished plate and stood up. "Goodnight, everyone." With that, he departed silently from the room.

Lovino exchanged a worried look with Feliciano. _Yet again there is something about this guy that appears as a mystery._ he thought. _Kidnapping, guns and now this. There is definitely a piece of this puzzle that I am missing._ Mystified once more, he retreated into thought, a chill settling over his heart.

The atmosphere was strained following Antonio's sudden departure, and any further words spoken during the final course of dinner were hesitant and brief, in fear of sparking Arthur's displeasure again.

After dinner had finished Lovino knocked gently on Antonio's door, half wishing for an answer, half wishing he wasn't doing this. He was frightened of what Antonio might do or say, yet still curious as to why Arthur had snapped at him. "Hey, bastard. You in here?"

Upon hearing no reply, he poked his head into the room. The light was off, and darkness swathed the contents. Lovino stared, confused, and as his eyes adjusted Antonio's silhouette became visible against the glass of the window, motionless.

Lovino scowled and knocked again on the open door. "Oi. Hello? Tomato-jerk?"

Antonio remained impassive as a statue, either completely oblivious or deliberately ignoring Lovino. Which he wasn't too pleased about.

"Hey...Antonio? You ok?" Lovino was beginning to get worried.

"Please go, Lovi," Antonio replied quietly. His voice chillled Lovino; he'd never seen Antonio anything but happy before, and the change was unnerving.

Despite this, he walked slowly into the room. "You're not ok, are you? There's something between you and that rich jerk, isn't there? What's going on?"

Still not moving, Antonio replied in a monotone "There are things you neither know nor would understand. Just go, please, Lovi."

"You don't know I wouldn't understand them," Lovino retorted, annoyed. "Try me."

There was a short pause, and for a second, Lovino thought he had the Spaniard convinced. "No. You don't need to know. I don't want you caught up in this, Lovi." Lovino jolted. Antonio had said almost exactly the same thing before they had left, when he'd been listening in on their conversations. Not that he could admit that though.

"Caught up in what?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

Now Antonio turned. "Nothing. Leave, Lovino, please."

"No way," Lovino answered, stubborn as ever. "There's something bothering you and, to use your phrasing, it can help to talk about it."

Antonio crossed the dark room and placed his hands on Lovino's slim shoulders. "There are some things that can be spoken about, and some that can't. As far as you are concerned, it was a mere dispute that is now to be brushed under the rug, and you will not ask about it again." His face was hard and intense.

"Antonio...you're scaring me..." Lovino murmured weakly, his breath coming short as Antonio's grip tightened. He could feel traitorous tears welling in his eyes. _Damn it! I can't cry here! _"Let go..."

Antonio didn't; his shadowed green eyes kept boring into Lovino's frightened amber ones with the fiercest expression Lovino had seen. The shadows of the darkness on his face made him look like some kind of spectre, malicious and deadly. Lovino swallowed and held his breath, terrified, but afraid to show it.

Suddenly Antonio's grip slackened and his eyes grew wide. He backed off, stunned, breath coming in arrhythmic jumps. "I...I'm sorry, Lovi..." he whispered, voice cracking.

Relieved at his release, Lovino turned fast, ready to leave, when the back of his mind murmured; _If I leave now, this will be a rift between us. I'll lose him forever, _and he reluctantly stopped.

There was a soft flump behind him, and he turned back to see Antonio sat on the bed, head in hands. Even in the blackness, his despondency was clear. Lovino knew he couldn't bring himself to leave now. Something seemed to be stopping him from moving any further towards the door.

He cleared his throat nervously. "Er...It's not that bad, is it? You said there was nothing up with this fight of yours."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Eventually Antonio sighed. "It's not that that's bothering me now. I just turned on you. You were only looking out for me, and I hurt you."

"Whatever. I'd probably get pissed if someone kept badgering me," Lovino shrugged.

Antonio made a noise that sounded vaguely like a strangled laugh. "You did, Lovi. Remember?" He paused and sighed again. "Arthur and I...there is some past history to us. It was a while ago, but...let's just say we got in a bad fight, and haven't gotten on well since. I don't think he's best pleased that I came with Francis, and I always feel so uncomfortable around him. I had a feeling that this evening wouldn't pass without something like this arising. I'm sorry for taking out my anger on you. Can you forgive me?"

"'Course, you dumb bastard. That guy's a jerk anyway." Lovino flipped his hand dismissively, secretly glad that Antonio was slightly happier, and also less likely to flip out at him again. The new side to Antonio had been nothing short of scary.

Antonio stood up again and faced Lovino. Though it was hard to tell in the dark, there seemed to be a relieved smile on his face. He tilted his head and held his arms out expectantly to Lovino.

Lovino flinched, surprised, then reluctantly stepped forward into Antonio's embrace. _If it'll shut him up, I'll humour him. _But he kept his own arms by his side. He wasn't going _quite _that far yet, even though that annoying little voice was jumping around happily at the idea. The other's warm arms wrapped around him and pulled him close. Antonio's head leant against his own, pressing it gently against Antonio's shoulder. He could feel Antonio's heartbeat in his ear, going almost as fast as his own was.

His nervousness got the better of him after few seconds and he pulled away, cheeks flushed. A strange expression flickered momentarily across Antonio's face - was that disappointment? _No. Couldn't be._

Lovino scratched one ear awkwardly. "Er, well. It's late. I'd better get to bed. We're discussing stuff properly tomorrow - after breakfast, at like, ten or something. Think you missed that after you left. Anyway, night." He broke eye contact and turned swiftly, too self-conscious even to swear.

"Goodnight, Lovi," Antonio said softly, still watching Lovino with a small gratified smile.

Lovino left quickly, not daring to look back, and shut the door behind himself. It wasn't until he reached his own room when he released the tension in his limbs with a relieved gasp and collapsed onto his bed. His mind felt almost frozen. What had just happened then?

_One second I think he's going to kill me, the next he's depressed and wants a hug. Is he psycho, or have multiple personalities, or what? Shit...this is mad. And yet I still care if he's happy or not? I must be mad too. Damn it all. The sooner this is over, the better._

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><p>Yay for slightly!Yandere!Spain! Hehehe~ Him and Arthur don't get on.<p>

PS: Arthur has awesome taste in musics. :D So does Lovi, actually. Vivaldi is epic.


	26. Chapter 26

_Thin lines of moonlight crept under the crack in the curtains of the second-floor room, illuminating the static darkness. It would have been peaceful, if not for the bright crack of light streaming from where the bathroom door stood ajar, and the irregular rhythm sounding from within. Alfred, iPod headphones stuck firmly in his ears, stood at the sink of his en-suite bathroom, glad Arthur's self-sufficient house never wanted for power. A lather-covered toothbrush was jammed in his mouth, foam reverberating with odd sounds as he hummed along to Enrique Iglesias's Hero_. His blond hair was wet from the shower and he was clad in a thick white towelling robe.

"Mmff-mmff be your hero, baby," he half-sang with a mouthful of foam. "I can mmff a-way fff-mmff." There was a creak outside. "Mff-whaa?" He cut off his singing and peered around curiously. That noise had definitely been the door. It couldn't have been a ghost, and his heart definitely wasn't pounding like a jackhammer at the prospect.

There was a sharp click and a bright yellow-orange light slid in through the gap in the door. Alfred spat out his mouthful of toothpaste, yoinked the headphones out his ears and poked his head out the bathroom.

To his surprise, Arthur was stood in the now lit bedroom, still in his black suit despite that it was past eleven at night. His blond hair was even more ruffled than usual, as if he'd been running his hands through it a lot.

"Dude!" Alfred exclaimed. "I thought you'd be waaay too pissed off to come see the Hero!"

"Shut up, you twat," Arthur growled. "I need to talk to you."

Alfred's face fell. "Aw. You just wanna talk? Ah, well. Wait - it's not, like, serious is it?"

"Course it's serious," Arthur scowled, stalking over to the bed and sitting down. He cast a disapproving eye at the bedspread patterned like a comic book, but then he did every time he saw it. "What part of the recent events _hasn't _been serious?"

"Depends how ya view things, dude," Alfred replied. He flicked the bathroom light off and jumped onto the bed next to Arthur, crossing his legs under his bathrobe. "What's botherin' ya?"

"Carriedo," Arthur answered, a flicker of dislike crossing his face. "I do not trust that man."

"What's so up with him? You just seemed to snap at him earlier. Kinda weird, to be honest."

Arthur looked at him incredulously, black eyebrows in danger of escaping into his hair. "You have to be joking. Surely you remember we have crossed paths before?"

"Nope." Alfred shook his head, a couple of water droplets flying off strands of hair. "Go on, enlighten me instead of a lecture for once." Generally in this situation, Arthur would get annoyed at him for forgetting something important and yell at him for at least five minutes.

Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair, further adding to its general scruffiness. "You're hopeless, Jones, you really are. Don't you remember a few years ago, when your department set out to arrest that gang on the West Coast and bring them to justice? The ones that were smuggling weaponry?"

Alfred grinned. "Oh yeah! I know them guys." He put one finger on his chin, remembering with a gleam in his sky-blue eyes. "Me and the rest of the Hero Association were all set to go fight them, then our operation got totally trashed by those three other guys. The Bad Touch Trio, they called themselves. They just ran in, nicked all the money and weapons, mucked up all the evidence so nothing'd stand in court, then ran off and left my department with three million bucks of debt. Two guys died too, one of my guys and a passer-by got caught in an explosion. We didn't even get to arrest the dudes we were after in the first place. Took us ages to regain the boss's favour after that disaster." A scowl briefly marred his face as he growled low in his throat.

Arthur nodded. "Exactly. I also knew Carriedo from high school, as you may remember me telling you. He may have been in the year below, but he was infamous among both the students and faculty for various reasons. And of course, we were enemies for several years."

"Huh? Don't remember. What'd he do to you again?" Once again, Alfred was looking blank.

"Bloody useless Yank. Anyway, regarding Carriedo. I ousted his seat as council president, so he twice came up with ways to publicly humiliate me. After that incident with the bull and the shaving cream, it almost became war between us. I'm not going into the rest of _that_ story." A scowl had rested itself on Arthur's features again.

"I swear you did a loada evil junk to him too in revenge. I'm surprised he ain't pissed at you too. Wait...is he?"

"No, that's not his style. He tends to bide his time, act happy, but inside he's plotting revenge, I know it. He would never have forgotten our enmity." Arthur cracked his knuckles to emphasise his words.

Alfred winced at the sound, but nodded in agreement. "Ok. What was the point again?"

Arthur cursed. "The _point, _Alfred, is that I don't trust the git. And I don't think he and his friends should be part of this operation. The frog's an annoying pervert, Beilschmidt's a narcissistic egomaniac, and from my point of view, all the others are completely green. I don't think any of them would be up to our task."

Alfred looked thoughtful. "Think I disagree with ya on that one, Artie. We're on the same side now, so I reckon we can trust 'em. They did come ta help Mattie, after all, so there's some good in them at least. They're good fighters, from what I knew earlier too, so they'll be dead helpful. Besides, they've upped our manpower on this by 200%. That's more than I had in the first place. And, while we don't know how useful the others'd be, there's a chance they'll be good. I deff recognise the name Vargas, that's for sure. I'll tell ya if I remember where from. But, yeah, I think things'll be different this time."

"They'd better be," Arthur sighed, a worried look crossing his face. "Ok, Alfred. I'll play along with your idea for the time being. They can be our allies, and whatever course of action we decide tomorrow, they will play a part in it. But if Carriedo betrays us and we all end up dead, I'll be extremely annoyed."

"Nah, you won't, Artie. You'll be extremely dead."

"Oh shut up, you prat."

XxxxX

"Pshht, gathering in the _parlour_. Perhaps a spot of tea, what what? I say, this is all mighty splendid of you. Good show, man!" The white-haired Prussian, his grubby boots propped up on a pristine table, was in hysterics at his own antics of mockery.

"Gilbert, it's probably a good idea if you stop taking the mick." Ludwig sighed, once again exasperated at his older brother.

"Yeah, dude," Alfred agreed. "Artie goes nuts if I do a mock-English accent, so he'd totally be pissed if you're doing it. 'Specially as you're guests here and all."

The clock on the wall chimed the tenth hour of the morning. The group, minus Arthur, were gathered in the lavishly decorated room known as the parlour, which Gilbert had happily begun to poke fun at. Lovino was curled up in an armchair, scowling as usual. The two Beilschmidt brothers, as well as Feliciano, Romulus and Francis were squashed up on a large sofa, Kiku was sat in the armchair opposite Lovino's, while Matthew, Feliks and Antonio were perched on chairs brought in from the dining room.

A delicious aroma of tea wafted up from the pot sat on the coffee table, surrounded by delicate china cups. There was a plate of biscuits nearby, already half-empty and covered with crumbs.

The door swung open slowly and Arthur entered, dragging a portable whiteboard with him. He set it up in front of the window, making sure it was in a position where everyone could see, then took a seat in an armchair next to it.

"What are you doing with that? Teaching?" Alfred grinned pointing at the board.

"If it's a lesson in love, I would happily take the class for you," Francis added, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Arthur tapped his silver pen against his notebook, signalling he wanted attention. "Shut up, you bloody idiots. Commence the ten o'clock situation meeting. So, our agenda for this morning. My notes are thus: one; Clarify our opponent, two; Identify the problem and its cause, three; Develop a preliminary plan of action. Any questions before we begin?"

Feliks waved a hand in the air eagerly. "Like, I wanna add something! Find Toris." He was determined to get his mission across this time.

Alfred dropped his cup, which shattered against the floor, much to Arthur's chagrin. "Toris? As in Toris _Laurinatis_?"

Feliks blinked, surprised. "Yeah. Why?"

"I know him!" Alfred gasped. "We were friends a while back. Haven't spoken to him in a while, but I didn't know he was in trouble! What happened?"

"I don't know," admitted Feliks. "He's, like, stuck somewhere, but I dunno where, and he won't answer his phone anymore, although I think it's, like, probably outta batteries now. But he's definitely in trouble. I mean, like, it's gotta be something big to make him break a promise to me like that."

Alfred frowned in concern, but didn't further elaborate. "That. Seriously. Sucks. Hey, Arthur. Item number four on that agenda of yours; locate and recover Toris! Don't worry, Feliks - the Hero is on the case!" He pointed triumphantly towards the ceiling and grinned. For some reason, Feliks wasn't particularly reassured by this. More rather, he was becoming increasingly worried - both for their self-declared 'leader', and that, from Alfred's expression, there was something important about Toris that he didn't know. And that, above anything, scared him.

"Right," Arthur said, jotting on his notepad, realising it would be pointless to argue in any way with Alfred when he was in his 'hero' mood. "Very well. So, back to item number one; how much does everyone know about our current situation?"

"Sod all, damn it," Lovino responded immediately and shot a glare at the rest of the room. "Every time I've asked, I've got blanked."

"I'll start from the top then," Arthur said, standing up and uncapping a whiteboard pen. "Right. Our story begins with Alfred. As you may, or may not, know, he works for a covert division of the intelligence service which he founded. For lack of a better name, he entitled the department 'The Hero Association'. They were a small, but very dedicated group focused on weeding out injustice, serious crime and corruption, and, for a time, were very successful. However, Alfred is now their one remaining member."

"What happened to the others?" Romulus asked seriously.

"Assassinated," Arthur said simply. "About a year ago, the group began working towards the eradication of a severe _mafiya_-esque organisation, whom they suspected of planning a major attack that threatened national security. It was a very serious operation, and the group worked very hard towards its completion. However, the operation was uncovered about two months ago by their target, who lost no time in sending out minions to dispatch the Hero Association's members." He finished writing up notes and names on the board; under the title Hero Association was a list, with Alfred F. Jones being the only name without a line through.

"One by one, they fell, in various and often grisly ways. Yet Alfred must be credited for his stupidity and stubbornness. Alone, he worked tirelessly to avenge his fallen colleagues."

Matthew raised his hand. "Er, this was the point I began to help him too. He asked me after I found out about the loss of his friends."

"Ah, yes. My apologies. Anyway, Alfred kept up with his mission, swearing a solemn vow to bring his enemy to justice. About a month ago, he recruited first me, and then Kiku to his cause, for various reasons. So, Alfred began a four-man war against his enemy, which quickly turned sour, then violent, and finally disastrous when the opposing group activated a supply of illegal missiles and blew up every major city in the country as a response to a threat. This is the true cause of the recent developments. Any questions so far?"

Four hands went up; Feliciano, Lovino, Romulus and Antonio. Arthur regarded each briefly before pointing his pen at Feliciano.

"Are we going to die too if we help? I don't want me or my friends to die." He was clearly distraught by the revelations, and was clinging to Romulus' arm, his golden eyes wide.

Alfred spoke up, clear and confident, sombre and determined. "No. I won't allow any more harm to come to anyone as a result of my mission. Far too many lives have been lost already. On my word as a hero, I will keep you safe."

"Ve~." Pacified, Feliciano settled back down against the flower-patterned cushions.

"My turn," Lovino announced before Arthur could ask for more questions. "So you're saying that thousands are dead, and many more injured or homeless, just because this bastard screwed up in his fight to arrest some jackass psycho mob boss? 'Cos that just sounds like a complete load of balls to me."

Arthur sighed. "In a nutshell, that is what happened. But, that explanation does leave out an awful lot of important detail, the inclusion of which would take some time."

"Whatever. You bastards screwed up big time, and now you're having to draft in extra help? At some point this is just-"

Romulus gave his elder grandson a warning look and spoke firmly. "Ok, Lovino, no need to make Alfred feel worse than he undoubtedly already does. Anyway, Arthur. You seem to have missed out who exactly we're versing here. Or does nobody actually know?"

"We do know." Arthur pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and pinned a small photograph to the board with blu-tack; a heavily shadowed black-and-white picture of a grey-haired man wearing a long coat and scarf. The image was grainy and blurred, to the point that the man's face was rendered unidentifiable. "This is our enemy; the Russian _Glavamafii _known as Ivan Braginski."

There was a simultaneous gasp from Francis, Antonio and Gilbert, who were suddenly edgy and ashen-faced.

"_Ivan Braginski_?" Francis asked incredulously. "Your group are after criminals and you picked _him_? _Êtes-vous fou_? You do not want to pick a fight with that guy!"

"Piyo-piyo!" came a cheeping from the back of Gilbert's seat.

Gilbert nodded. "Exactly, little buddy. You guys are seriously lacking in the brains department here. Even the awesome me'll think twice before tackling that guy."

"Hold it!" Ludwig said, his strong voice cutting easily through the commotion. "Exactly why is this person such a serious enemy?"

Antonio glanced around, as if watched by unseen forces. "Ivan Braginski is a Russian gang leader. He runs a criminal empire stretching across three countries. If it's illegal, you can bet your life savings that at some point it has passed through one of his divisions. Rumour has it that he is immune to anything; no policeman or law enforcement agent can touch him. And he runs all this from his fortress, the _Court of General Winter_; the most heavily guarded building this side of the strongholds of the Untouchable South. Braginski is quite probably the most dangerous man alive."

A deathly silence descended on the room, and many of its occupants exchanged wary glances.

Alfred suddenly slammed his hands on the glass top of the coffee table, making everyone jump. "That's exactly why we've got to bring him in. Once he's gone, the world stands a chance of rebuilding itself with justice and freedom as its key values. Braginski dreams of ruling the world, and this is the best chance he has at that, it's what he's been working towards. We have to stop him."

"You totally sound like a TV show character," Feliks observed quietly.

"Exactly!" Alfred beamed. "I'm the Hero! But heroes need lots of awesome hero-support sometimes, so that's where you guys come in. So, here's the plan. We go to Ivan's hideout, attack his goons, I do my awesome-hero-stuff, and we all save the day!"

Arthur coughed and tapped the whiteboard. "I think we need a better plan than that."

Ludwig frowned slightly. "Whatever happened to peaceful negotiations? Have you ever directly spoken to Braginski? It may be possible for us to convince him to abandon his plans."

"Well, no, we haven't-" Arthur began.

"It's impossible, dude!" Alfred cried. "Seriously. We've never tried that 'cos he's-"

"I _think_ I was talking, you git," Arthur growled, whacking the American on the head with his notebook.

Alfred moaned and clutched his head. "Ow, Artie, that was the spiral-bind that got me!"

"Belt it, you pansy. And stop calling me Artie when we're trying to have a serious conversation." Arthur returned to his seat and crossed one leg over the other. "As I was saying, negotiations are not usually the necessary way to tackle this sort of situation."

"Ah, Arthur-san?" Kiku spoke up quietly. "I agree with Ludwig-san. Diplomacy is something we have not tried."

The room was silent; it was obvious that everyone respected Kiku and knew that, if he said something, it was worth listening to.

Arthur hummed thoughtfully, tapping his pen against his other hand. "Well, it's the best idea I've heard, but then, I've only been talking to Alfred." He sighed. "Where are we going with this?"

Ludwig spoke up again. "I suggest, if you know the location of this 'Court of General Winter', that we send in a few people to try speak to Ivan, convince him to back down and be content with what he has."

"That seems reasonable," Arthur nodded. "That leaves the main question of who is to go."

"The Hero!" Alfred shouted, waving both hands in the air. "And three others. Four is a good number. It's not big as to be intimidating, but it can split into two pairs for more covert work."

Arthur's eyes rested briefly on Antonio, who immediately felt uncomfortable. "Then, may I suggest the 'Bad Touch Trio' to go with him? The three of you work well together, and have experience in...such situations. And it will give you a chance to prove yourselves useful to us."

"Why ain't you volunteering?" Gilbert asked bluntly.

"Gilbert, I am not a combatant. I am a businessman, a manager, an organiser. Yes, I can handle a weapon if the situation arises, but I am not the first person you would want in a fight."

"Yeah you are, dude," Alfred interrupted. "I'd want you along on any mission."

Arthur coughed, and Feliks could swear he was blushing slightly. "Well, that may be so, but I still think the previous choice is better, that is, unless the aforementioned are not up to the task..?" He looked directly at Antonio and Francis, his flashing emerald eyes issuing a challenge.

"Uh, sure," Antonio replied, sounding more confident than he felt. "So, how are we doing this, then?"

"Simple," Arthur replied. "I set up, given that Braginski is willing to negotiate and of course via a secure line, a meeting to try and bring the beginnings of a resolution about. In short, the four of you prepare for a visit to a heavily armed, highly dangerous gang base."

XxxxX

It wasn't until Feliks was back in his room later that afternoon until he realised something very important. He was lying back on the white-and-blue sheets of his bed, not even bothering to remove his boots, staring up at the ceiling. Even after the meeting, he still wasn't completely sure what was going on. Arthur had garbled a lot of information into one short talk, especially after deciding on their course of action, and the continuous stream of facts and speculations had been confusing. Confusing to the point where he'd zoned out at least twice, which didn't help at all to string ideas together.

_Like, what is up with all of this anyways? _he thought, kicking the heels of his boots together in an off-beat rhythm. _This dude makes, like, no sense whatsoever. He's all like, 'oh, Imma take over the world, let's blow everything up to do so.' Backwards idea if I ever heard one. Maybe he's mad. Probably is. And I don't see what any of this has to do with Liet. Yeah, I know this evil guy taking over the world totally sucks, but Liet's my world, and he's been pushed to the back of the priority queue again just 'cos I, like, don't know anything except that 'court of' thing that he- _

Feliks bolted upright, eyes wide and heart pounding. The world was spinning, as if hanging suspended on a string far away while battered by a harsh wind. It was a moment of pure shock, built on the biggest epiphany he'd ever had, something no one else had picked up on. It may be a stretch, but in his heart Feliks was certain it was true.

The Court of General Winter. That was where Arthur had said Braginski was holed up at. Ivan Braginski, the _Russian_ criminal genius. And Toris had said earlier that he was at 'the court of' someplace. And he'd said it _in Russian_. Well, it didn't take a rocket scientist to add two and two to get four.

And right now Feliks had got that four to make the most important four-letter-word in his life. Liet.

He stood up and stared into the tree-and-shrub dominated grounds outside, imagining he was staring at an imposing black fortress. _Well, Liet. I know where you are now. And that _bękart_ is totally gonna regret ever going near you. _

* * *

><p><em>Glavamafii<em> – loosely translates to 'Head of the Mafia'. I don't speak Russian, and know even less about Russian Mafias, so this isn't meant to be very accurate.  
><em>Êtes-vous fou<em>? – Are you mad?  
><em>bękart<em> – I think this means 'bastard'. But I don't speak Polish either.

Apologies that this is up later than it was meant to be. I've had a lot on my agenda lately, most of which has been work. Which sucks. And also means my fics don't get updated as often. To those of you following Land Beyond Dreams, the next chapter of that is also somewhat delayed, but will be up as soon as I can.

There's a lot of explanation in this chapter. If it ever gets confusing (which knowing me, it inevitably will do), please inform me and I will endeavour to explain it in a future chapter. Unless it is meant to be withheld information, in which case it will be kept silent until needs arise. Hehe.


	27. Chapter 27

Francis and Gilbert marched into Antonio's room, the Prussian carefully closing the door behind them. Both were wearing uncharacteristically strange expressions.

"It seems we have a problem," Francis said quietly, leaning one hand a post of the bed.

"Understatement of the century, Francis," Gilbert growled. "We're gonna die if we keep on with this quest." His little bird cheeped its agreement.

Antonio sat up on the red satin sheets of his bed and crossed his legs, thinking hard. "What are we going to do about it, then?"

"Leave," Gilbert said immediately. "Tonight, while everyone's asleep. GTAFO. Get The Awesome Fuck Out."

Francis gasped and stared at him. "Gilbert, that's betrayal! We cannot abandon everyone like this, you know!"

"What choice do we have?" Gilbert snapped, fists clenched. "Braginski's a psycho, you know that full well. Do you want to die?"

"Of course not! But we cannot leave the others!"

"Ivan doesn't know their weaknesses, unlike us! They'll stand a chance."

'But I promised Matthew I would help! You never did know the meaning of loyalty. Oh no, 'being alone is too awesome'." Francis stared daggers at his friend.

"Alone I am too awesome to lose to you!" Gilbert yelled, swinging a punch at Francis. The Frenchman ducked it easily and threw an blow of his own. Gilbert let out a cry as it connected with his arm and launched himself at Francis, sending the pair of them tumbling to the floor in a shouting, fighting, chaotic pile.

"Stop it, both of you!" Antonio yelled desperately, jumping up from his bed and pulling the combatants apart. "You're going mad! We can't divide among ourselves at a time like this!"

Gilbert and Francis stood up and stared at him, breathing hard. Francis' shirt was ripped and Gilbert had red scratch marks down one cheek. Red and blue eyes locked with green, waiting for which side would emerge triumphant.

Eventually Francis sighed sadly and smoothed out his ruffled hair. "Of course, you are right. I am sorry."

"Whatever." Gilbert scowled, but the other two could tell he too was remorseful. He plonked himself down on a soft chair by the wall and propped his feet over one of the arms.

Antonio smiled in relief and sat back down on the red silk sheets of his bed. "Good. So, what is our plan now? If we leave, we're deserting our friends, but if we stay we are risking our lives beyond anything we have ever done. And since we have sometimes risked our lives on a daily basis, this is pretty serious. What are we going to do about it?"

"_Je ne sais pas,_" Francis replied. "But as for me, I cannot abandon poor Matthew. You must understand that. So, whether you two leave or not, I am staying, whatever the cost may be to myself." His expression was blank, as if trying to block out the eventual seriousness of that cost.

Gilbert was stunned by his friend's dedication. "Whoa. Francis...you do realise what this means now, right? Our trio... Ever since the _pietra preziosa _heist six years ago...we've always hung out. I mean...we're the awesome BTT. We've done so much together. Are we really splitting up over this?"

"It would seem so," Francis sighed. "I assume from that you are leaving?"

Gilbert nodded. "Yeah. Nothing you guys are gonna say is making me change my mind. I want a lot of things, but I don't want to die. That'd suck ass."

"You have always looked out for yourself first, Gilbert, and I respect that, but sometimes...you need to learn how to look out for others when they mean something to you." Francis turned and faced Antonio. "I guess that just leaves you and me."

Antonio stared at the carpet shamefacedly. "_Lo siento, _Francis. But I too see no choice but to leave." His tone was quiet, but unwavering, carefully formed to hide the guilt rising in his chest and the screams of protest from the logical part of his mind.

"But what about...I thought you would stay in this for Lovino? It is obvious you care deeply for him. Surely you aren't just going to go without saying anything?" Francis was grasping at threads, desperate not to lose his friends and become alone when once he was part of a strong trio.

Antonio put his head in his hands. "Lovi...he deserves better than me. I cannot deny what I feel, but I would highly doubt that he returns my feelings. It is better for me to leave than to do something stupid." His heart clenched. It hurt, it hurt so badly to say that.

"Antonio..." Francis said feebly. He closed his astonished, saddened blue eyes and sighed. "Then I suppose that this is goodbye."

"It would seem so," Antonio replied calmly. He stood up and extended one hand, palm downward. "It has been a pleasure to know you two for as long as I did."

"Likewise, _mon ami_," Francis said with a sorrowful smile. He placed his hand on top of Antonio's. "May good luck follow whatever path you choose to take."

Gilbert picked himself up and placed his hand on top of the other two. "Yeah. Stay awesome, guys."

"Piyo-piyo," cheeped his little bird sadly, and sat down on top of the three hands.

The three regarded each other regretfully for a moment, each awash with memories and secretly trying to stave off bitter tears. They'd been through so much together, and now it was disappearing like sand down an hourglass. Time had run out for them.

Then Francis nodded sadly and broke the contact. "_Au revoir,_ Gilbert, Antonio," he murmured, and woefully left.

Gilbert turned to Antonio. "I'd better leave sooner, before West suspects. Maybe I'll see you in the future." He paused and stared dejectedly out the window. "_Wiedersehen,_" he muttered, then trudged out and shut the door behind him.

"_Adiós," _Antonio said quietly. Silently mourning the loss of his two best friends, his heart heavy from regret, he collapsed on his bed and wished there was some other way.

XxxxX

Lovino was woken by a soft snap as the door to his room closed. He sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes. He wouldn't have put it past Antonio or his brother to sneak into his room in the middle of the night. "What? 'Tonio, bastard, is that you?" he groaned sleepily. There was no reply, either verbally, or physically. Antonio wasn't in the room, nor was anyone else. The darkness was inhabited only by silence.

Confused, Lovino swung his legs out of bed and looked around. He could have sworn he'd noticed the door close, heard a voice next to his ear, felt a brush against his face. It had been blurry, yes, but it didn't feel like the memory of a dream. It had felt real.

Then suddenly, he noticed it. On his bedside table, on top of the mahogany surface, was a plant. A tomato plant. Antonio's little seedling tomato plant. Lovino stared at it, shocked. This plant...it had been so symbolic to Antonio. Why was it here?

There was a folded slip of paper tucked under the budding leaves that was clearly meant for Lovino. He picked it up, unsure, dreading what he was about to read. Unfolded, the strong, flowing handwriting was obviously Antonio's.

_My dear Lovi, _it read,

_By the time that you find this note, I will be gone. I assure you I never meant for this to happen, but I am afraid of the consequences if I stay, both for myself and for my friends. Ivan and Francis, Gilbert and I have crossed paths in the past, and it would be dangerous for all of us if he were to discover we were on opposite sides once again. _

_Francis and Gilbert know this too. Gilbert has already chosen to depart, but Francis promised to help Matthew and so stays. This is his choice, and he knows well what may happen. You may let the others know of this, as I doubt Gilbert told his brother. _

_As for me, I leave you my Tomato Plant of Hope, as you are the one ray of hope that seems to remain for the world to become safe again. Trust in your friends, and I wish you the best of luck in your mission. _

_Goodbye,_

_Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. _

Lovino was dumbstruck. Antonio...was leaving? A dagger-sharp pain stabbed itself into his heart and the world felt like it was crumbling to pieces. Lovino looked once more at Antonio's words and finally realised what he'd been feeling. It was love; it had always been. And he couldn't let Antonio go. But it was too late. All too late.

_No it's not, _Lovino realised. He wasn't supposed to have woken up until morning. If Antonio had just left now, there was still a chance he could catch him. Silently, he jumped up and raced across the house, hardly daring to hope.

On the other side of the corridor, he flung open the door to Antonio's room, but found only what he'd been dreading. He was gone. But, refusing to think, Lovino turned again and sprinted down the panelled corridor and the marble-and-carpet staircase of the house to the front door. Still just wearing the t-shirt and boxers he'd fallen asleep in, he flung open the gold-painted doorknob and kept running, oblivious to the wind against his legs and the cold stone path against his bare feet.

There. A figure by the silhouetted gate, with a backpack on their back and holding a suitcase. They were heading away, but slowly, almost regretfully. Lovino's heart leapt. He still stood a chance.

"Antonio!" he yelled desperately, rushing towards the figure, who jumped in surprise. As he closed in, Lovino could see the anguish and shock on Antonio's face.

He stopped about ten feet from him, panting hard, feet skidding on the stone. Suddenly nervous, his anger gone, his heart was in his throat and he couldn't speak. His heartbeat thudded against his chest; he was sure it was visible to Antonio even through the night.

"Antonio?" he asked again uncertainly.

Antonio looked at him with sad eyes, soft brown curls blowing in the cool wind. "Lovi?" His voice was pained, struggling with emotion.

"What are you doing, damn it? You can't leave!" Lovino exclaimed. He hadn't been able to believe it; Antonio leaving for himself, selfishness being his driving force, leaving people who depended on him. Not while Lovino was around he wasn't. His anger came back with a vengeance.

"Please, Lovi, don't make this any harder than it already is," Antonio said softly, his voice cracking softly.

"If it's so hard, then why are you doing it?" Lovino spat, his hands curling into fists.

"Because I have to," Antonio replied simply and flatly, trying to hide his hesitation from Lovino. "Now please, just go back inside. Goodbye." He turned away again and started to walk off into the silence of the night.

"What?" Lovino yelled. "Come back, damn you!" To his increasing sadness and fury, Antonio kept silently walking.

He stumbled forward, arms outstretched after Antonio. "HEY! You can't just leave! We need you! Ivan's more powerful than we are; everyone is going to count in this! You complete traitorous bastard! Get back here!" Lovino's voice was strained, desperate. He realised anger wouldn't count anymore, and it was quickly fading. Antonio was stronger than he was - he would be impossible to overpower if he were to try. Lovino was rapidly running out of options and the potential loss was becoming beyond painful. "Please! Come back already!" His arms fell to his sides, breath coming short.

All to no avail. They were...no, he was going to lose Antonio forever. His vision blurred.

"What am I going to do without you?" he blurted, voice cracking, tears streaming from his eyes. His knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground, defeated. "Shit...Antonio...please..." His voice was faint, almost nothing.

Several metres away, Antonio stopped, pulse thudding. "What?" he murmured. He turned around slowly, and his heart nearly split in two at the sight of the broken Lovino knelt on the ground, head down. Against every survival instinct in his body, he dropped his bags and walked back.

"Lovi?"

Lovino looked up, startled. He had to be hallucinating from grief.

Antonio extended a hand and pulled the Italian to his feet. "Lovi, what do you mean?"

Lovino caught his breath. So Antonio had heard his last sentence. Shit, but he couldn't tell Antonio the truth. Even if he did believe him, he would only laugh. And then he'd leave for real, taking Lovino's heart with him. Lovino stood silent, trembling gently. The wind whistled around the eaves of the house, echoing and haunting.

"Don't go," Lovino murmured finally. "I thought we were your friends. Why are you just abandoning us? You were perfectly happy to stay and fight earlier. Why does the identity of one man make so much of a difference?"

Antonio sighed. "You just have to point out the one flaw in my plan, don't you, Lovi? This was the one point that my conscience wouldn't leave me alone about. I didn't really..." He sighed again. "To be honest, Lovi, I don't think I can look you in the eyes now and tell you that I'm still leaving. I guess I just wanted the selfish way out, the coward's way out. But not now. I don't really want to leave you...uh, you guys, by yourselves. You're right, Ivan's pretty deadly, and you'll need all the help you can get. If you got hurt because of me, well-"

"Bastard, you're rambling," Lovino interrupted. He didn't really want Antonio to stop talking, but he was afraid that the Spaniard's words might accidentally entice him to say something stupid, and besides, he was beginning to realise how cold it was out.

"Hehe, I guess you're right again," Antonio laughed nervously. "Sorry."

Lovino shrugged. "You should be, bastard, nearly running off like that." He shot Antonio a resentful glare, but both could tell there was no malice behind it.

Antonio was about to reply, when he noticed Lovino shiver violently. "Cold?" he asked gently, a small smile on his face.

"No, jerk, I'm shivering for the hell of it," Lovino replied, his voice loaded with sarcasm.

With a soft chuckle, Antonio reached out and took Lovino by the shoulders, pulling him in close. He didn't notice the Italian's surprised gasp, only gratefully seeing that Lovino wasn't pushing away the unexpected contact. "_Lo siento,_" he murmured softly, burying one hand in Lovino's tangled brown hair.

Lovino shut his eyes and rested his head against Antonio's warm chest, listening to the other's strangely fast heartbeat. Yes, he hadn't said what he'd set out to say, but he was far too relieved to chastise himself at the moment. Antonio was staying, and that was what mattered. It was scary to think just how close he'd come to losing him.

* * *

><p>When did I mean to get this up? Monday? Damn you, Temple Run.<br>I'm not sure about this chap, either, but I've done a lot of plot rewriting recently, and this is kinda necessary.  
>I don't know...<p> 


	28. Chapter 28

Feliks stared at the mirror, as he had been for perhaps fifteen minutes already. The Pole was trying to psychologically convince himself he was ready to charge into pitched battle without freaking the hell out, and was glaring at his reflection in an attempt to make himself look determined. It wasn't just himself he had to convince either. No, it was Alfred, Arthur, Antonio, Francis and Gilbert that he had to convince. Well, maybe not Francis. The Frenchman believed in the power of love, and knew Feliks fairly well, so he'd probably agree to let him come with. But the others probably thought he was just some stupid kid. Which Feliks was pretty pissed about; he'd been legally an adult for at least six months now. No one had the right to treat him like a kid.

He gave his reflection a renewed glare at this annoying thought, and was surprised when the Feliks in the mirror looked almost frightening. Well, if he could frighten himself, he could convince the others.

Plus it was half seven now, and people would probably be looking for breakfast sooner or later, and he could do with a bite. If only that English lord-guy had paluski, but no such luck.

But one thing was certain; he was going with them to find Toris. One way or another.

XxxxX

It was over breakfast, when pretty much everyone was gathered in the dining room again, when the bad news began to first drip, then cascade through the walls of the slowly breaching dam of tension.

"Alright," Arthur announced, cutting smoothly through existing conversations and effectively establishing control. "Two things. The good news; to my surprise, Ivan was willing to try for a diplomatic solution, on which I will elaborate shortly. So the plan we established yesterday is still mostly on track. But. I have noticed an absence of obnoxious German this morning, and I already checked to see if he was asleep. So, here's a question to his two remaining friends – where the fuck has that wanker disappeared off to?" The Englishman's large eyebrows were bristling as he snapped the last sentence, and he was giving off a distinctly hostile aura that was almost scary. Feliciano was close to cowering behind his grandfather.

Feliks hadn't noticed the absence until it was pointed out. But now it had been mentioned, it was glaringly obvious that Gilbert was missing. Somehow, over the last week or so, the sound of a bird chirping and its owner declaring his own self-awesome had become background, normal.

Off to his side, he noticed Francis and Antonio exchanging guilty looks, and Lovino glaring sharply at them from his position leant against the wall.

Francis sighed. "Gilbert...he has left us. We had a short discussion yesterday and Gilbert decided that tackling Ivan would be suicide for him, and made the decision to leave. However, you may rest assured that he has not gone over to the enemy."

There was a sharp slapping sound, quickly revealed to be Ludwig's hand colliding with his forehead. "_Dummkopf! Was zum Teufel..._" The younger German shook his head uselessly. "That is just typical of Gilbert. Thinking only of himself."

Arthur's eyes flashed. "And you two?" It was clear what this accused Francis and Antonio.

"I am staying," Francis said firmly. "I promised my dear Matthew that I would help him, and I remain true to my word. Antoine said that he would be leaving with Gilbert but apparently he has...changed his mind." Francis gave Antonio a sideways glance, and Feliks could swear that the Spaniard was blushing ever so slightly. He wondered what was more powerful than the threat of death that convinced him to stay.

"Uh, yeah," Antonio grinned sheepishly. "I kinda decided it'd be more important to stay. My conscience would kill me if I abandoned you guys." Was it Feliks' imagination, or was Antonio trying far too hard not to look at anyone? Curiosity sparked in his mind and he made a mental note to find out. Perhaps he'd ask Lovino – the Italian seemed to get on well with Antonio.

Arthur frowned. "Well, so long as your reasoning is sound and you do not go back on it, we are glad to have you. However, this rather pokes a hole in our carefully fabricated tapestry."

"The hell, dude?" Alfred asked. "This ain't a sewing, it's a plan to get back at them Russian guys and stop them being all evil. What's up with the plan, anyways?"

Arthur looked like he'd been physically struck as Alfred's mangled grammar pierced his ears and his face was contorted in a grimace. "Alfred, later I will tell you just how many things were wrong with what you just said. But, you see, the plan we formulated yesterday is planned around the strategies of four people. With the loss of Gilbert, our strike team is down to three. So we can either alter the current plan to suit three, or select a fourth member."

Alfred shrugged. "Ok. Decision time it is. So, me, Tonio and Fran are already part. Artie said yesterday he's not suited for this, so he's out. Uhh...Mattie's not good with confrontation, and Kiku's not good at talkin' ta people, so they're out too, right?"

"Hai, Alfred-san," Kiku agreed, nodding at the younger blond.

Feliks wondered why they agreed to this so easily. Matthew he knew was fairly shy, but this Japanese man seemed like a rather competent type. If they didn't go, who would? Then an idea hit him. The plan was based on four people; with Gilbert gone, this gave Feliks the perfect opportunity to go with them and find Toris. He turned to Alfred with his green eyes wide and expectant, and waited for the perfect moment to pitch his case.

Alfred, meanwhile, had dismissed Feliciano as being too young and inexperienced, and was currently surveying his older brother. "'K, Lovino, you have any experience in these kinda things? Y'know, fightin' and diplomacy and stuff."

Lovino opened his mouth, eyes shining, but Romulus cut in before he could say a word. "Lovino is not going."

Lovino faced his grandfather with a defiant scowl, clearly pissed off. "Why the hell not? I can cope on my own, damn it! We're in the middle of this now, you can't keep babying me!"

"It is far too dangerous," Romulus replied, his tone severe and unswayable. "You are too young, too inexperienced, and it would be irresponsible of me as your grandfather to send you into such a situation. I need to be here at all times just to keep you out of trouble; what will it be like if you go straight to it?" He crossed the hallway, feet clacking on the marble, and placed both his hands on his grandson's shoulders. "This could turn nasty, Lovino, and I don't want to lose you. It was bad enough when we got split up last week, but this will be much worse. I do not want you to be hurt, understand?"

Lovino drew back against the wall, folding his arms and pouting slightly, but he obviously didn't want to argue with Romulus. "Fine. I still think I'd be fine."

Romulus let a small smile slip onto his face. "You are headstrong and feisty, Lovino, and would cope well in many situations. But, you have not seen pitched battle, or serious fighting of any kind, and it is something that you cannot imagine, or plan for, without having been there before. And this is not an ideal training situation. You'll have your time another day."

"He's right, Lovi," Antonio smiled sympathetically at him. "This is unlikely to be the only stage. You'll get your turn sooner or later, you'll see.

"Hmmph," Lovino grumbled, glaring searing holes in the floor.

Arthur raised one of his comically large eyebrows. "At a guess, then, you are not going either, Romulus?"

"Afraid not," Romulus shook his head. "Gotta keep an eye on my grandsons. Besides, diplomacy isn't my forte. Call me if its an all-out fistfight, then I'm your man."

Arthur hummed, but didn't comment. "Feliciano and Feliks are too young and inexperienced for this, as Lovino would be if Alfred had been bothered to think before he spoke. It looks like we're going to have to adjust our current plan instead."

There was a veritable outcry at this.

"Fuck you, bastard."

"Ve~. I don't want to go by myself. Gangsters are scary."

"Excuse me, but I believe you have left me out."

"Like, what the hell? I'm totally going!"

Alfred held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, dudes. Calm it a sec. Who's actually got a question to make here?"

A rather annoyed Feliks waved his hand urgently. There was absolutely no way he was letting himself be left out of this again. "Yeah, like, over here. I'm totally going with you guys. Liet's, like, at that place you're going to, so I'm gonna, like, go rescue him while we're there."

Arthur folded his arms. "Really now. What experience of these matters do you have?"

_Oh damn_. "Uh...I was, like, on the debate team at school once...uhh... Wait! What the hell does that matter? I totally wanna go, which is more than these guys. And how are you guys gonna find Liet otherwise?"

Alfred shrugged. "Look, maybe? Hey, Feliks, don't wanna rain on your parade or nothing, but do you even have evidence that Toris is there? 'Cos it's really gonna put a spanner in the negotiations if we accuse Ivan of kidnapping someone he hasn't, yanno? Sorry, but I'm startin' to agree with Artie that maybe you guys are a bit young to come with."

"Hey!" Feliks protested, glaring sharply at Alfred, but Arthur cut across him before he had another chance to say anything more.

"I'm sorry to everyone who's disappointed, but it's really a necessary measure. Not only do you have to want to come to be able to, but we need to deem you an asset as opposed to a hindrance. Neither you nor Lovino have enough experience in this sort of thing to be of any help, and we cannot spare a man to protect you. I know this is blunt, and I'm sorry for it, but that is how the situation stands. The three who are already chosen to go are going alone. And that's final." Arthur folded his arms, sharp emerald eyes daring anyone to contradict him.

And to everyone's surprise, someone did. With an awkward noise attributed to throat-clearing, Ludwig said, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe you have left me out."

Arthur nodded, trying hard to keep his expression blank. "Yes. Well, not quite. You see, it is your brother who has recklessly deserted our group. Therefore, since I do not know you better, I have no choice but to distrust you."

Ludwig opened his mouth as if to protest, but suddenly decided against it. Instead, he merely nodded. "Very well then."

Feliks gaped, appalled that Ludwig was passing up such an opportunity, and, even more so, just letting a slur like that slide completely. The guy was either mad, didn't care what anyone thought, or somehow produced the same oddball logic that Arthur had. Although Feliks supposed that the former and the latter were two of the same.

Meanwhile, Arthur was continuing off in the background, having seemed to have taken over temporary command of the operation. "...detailed planning, which I suggest we should devote the rest of the day to. I would suggest a four o'clock start, having gotten all the planning and packing done well beforehand."

"Cool," Alfred grinned. "S'long as it's not too boring, yanno? I already know how this is going to play out, see? You guys are gonna-"

"If you say 'be my support', Alfred," Arthur interrupted with a scowl, "I will slap you around your bloody face. This is a lot more complicated than you 'being the hero'. Now, if you are not directly involved in the mission or will contribute constructively to the planning stages, then I would suggest you go do your own thing for now." His tone was quite casual, but it was clear that he only really wanted Alfred, Francis, Antonio and Kiku besides himself there. Feliks guessed it was because the guy preferred working with people he knew, but was a bit too mad to care at the moment, and quickly stormed out in a huff. If he stuck around he'd only get kicked out, and, as he'd decided earlier, he had plenty of chance to come up with a better plan of his own.

Feliciano and Romulus quickly followed suit, although with much less anger. The younger Italian wasn't interested in going himself, more with how things went in the end, and the elder Italian was rather unsure about the entire thing, but didn't want to interfere in an operation someone else had already set up.

Antonio sighed and faced Lovino with a pair of saddened green eyes once all the others had too departed. He wasn't entirely sure what to say, or even what was really going on, but he didn't want Lovino to oppose everyone too greatly. "I'm sorry, Lovi. But it'd be best if you didn't come along – you could get hurt.

With a glare, Lovino defiantly stuck his middle finger up at Antonio. "Bastard. Help you make the right decision and you don't even stick up for me. Don't know why I do this stuff," he grumbled as he turned on one heel and strode off.

Antonio sighed. He really was struggling to figure Lovino out. One moment he'd been pleading with Antonio not to leave, the next he was abusive and indifferent to whatever Antonio thought. Which one was his true thoughts, if either? Antonio didn't want Lovino to hate him. He'd have to try harder to get the Italian to like him properly once they got back.

XxxxX

Lovino stomped upstairs, cursing with an entire spectrum of language in no less then three languages. He was fed up with people treating him like some stupid kid. Why did they keep putting him down? After all, he was perfectly capable of looking after himself, it was just that no one ever gave him the chance to prove it. He was the one who'd gotten Antonio back too! Well, not that anyone else knew that. It was embarrassing, to say the least. Stupid jerk. He lashed out at the nearest wall, but received only a smarting hand for his troubles, and recoiled, swearing violently.

Well, if they weren't going to let him go legitimately, he was just going to have to get there by himself. He'd just wait until they finished packing their equipment for tonight, then he'd sneak into the car and conceal himself until they arrived at Braginski's. They'd have to let him join in if he was already there.

Plan in mind, he raced the final dozen or so steps to his room and slammed the door behind him, throwing himself onto his bed backwards. Once the initial shockwave subsided, he settled his hands behind his head and started thinking. It'd have to be a serious plan, after all. He'd have to outsmart Alfred, Francis and Antonio after all – wait, scratch that, it wasn't as if they were smart. Hell, they probably wouldn't think to double-check the car for stowaways; it was in a secure environment after all, a billion miles from nowhere and in the middle of his friend's garage. At least Lovino assumed Alfred and Arthur were friends. He wasn't quite sure of the relationship between most of the people he was with. Or even who they were exactly, especially when it came to Antonio.

No, he wasn't going to think about Antonio now. That was dangerous territory, and last night had been bad enough for Lovino's tangled thoughts. However, all that aside, Lovino still wasn't quite sure what he was putting himself into. There had to be a reason that Arthur had such a rod up his butt, and that was almost definitely danger. Lovino was pretty sure gangsters weren't going to be like the ones in the movies. Most likely, these guys were going to be serious and psychopathic, and Lovino could end up with more holes in him than a Swiss cheese if he didn't watch out.

Wait...why should it be that the bad guys were the only ones armed? Lovino had almost forgotten his new little friend hidden snugly amongst his belongings. Alfred, Antonio and the others'd _have_ to respect him once he'd pulled off some gun-toting badassery. That settled things.

Lovino leapt up off the bed and across to his backpack where it was leant against the wall, which he still hadn't bothered to unpack. Ripping open the zip, he plunged a hand into it and scrabbled around the insides for his gun. For a heart-stopping moment, he thought he'd lost it, but then his fingers brushed against something cold and hard, and he pulled the gun out from under a crumpled T-shirt. It was as spotless as it had been when he'd obtained it, and Lovino could see his distorted face reflected in the shining metal of the barrel.

Unconsciously, he swallowed, suddenly nervous. The weapon was a literal symbol of the danger he would be putting himself in if he were to go. He could seriously get hurt, or worse. But he steeled himself, reassessing his thoughts, and flicked open the magazine to check if it was still loaded, which it was. It'd be useful to fire a shot, just to check if it worked, but not only would that be a waste of ammunition, it would immediately alert everyone in the house of the weapon's presence. _Nonno_ would confiscate it without a word, and Lovino could pretty much kiss his chances of going anywhere goodbye.

He clicked the magazine back into place and double checked the safety was on, before pulling his dark green jacket out of the bag and sliding the gun into the inside pocket. Cautiously, he glanced in the mirror above the dressing table as he put the jacket on and was relieved to see that there was no visible bulge. It wouldn't do to give the game away early.

XxxxX

Across the hallway, an equally annoyed Feliks was debating his own plans of action. Doing nothing, of course, was out of the question. That'd pretty much condemn Toris to whatever malicious evil lay in Ivan's base, and Feliks wouldn't be able to live with himself if he abandoned Toris.

He was seriously doubting Alfred's capabilities too. Sure, Alfred knew Toris. Knew, past tense. That didn't mean that he was likely to look for him. As a matter of fact, he'd pretty much just said he didn't give half a damn! He just wanted his mission complete, even though his government was all blown up and stuff. There was only one way that Feliks could make sure that Toris was alright and brought to safety, and that was to go get him himself.

And if they wouldn't take him willingly, well, it looked like Feliks was just going to have to sneak on board and inside by himself. Couldn't be hard, could it?

Just wait 'till they'd loaded up, then hide onboard and stay concealed until they arrived and the others had disappeared. Then Feliks could sneak inside and find Toris, and the two would return to the car and come back to Arthur's, safe and sound. It was a simple enough plan, as plans went. Bit of sneaking around, bit of safe-cracking, and they'd be home free. No fighting, though. Feliks didn't want to get hurt, or put Toris in further danger either. This was going to be a stealth mission.

And his first test of stealth was to get out of the house and into Alfred's car completely undetected by everyone else. What else was there to say, save for 'Challenge Accepted'?

XxxxX

Two tentative hours later, Lovino, who'd been hiding in the music room – he rather liked it in there – to stay away from people, snuck outside through the French doors at the back of Arthur's house. From the sounds of Antonio and Francis talking in one of the rooms off the hallway, the three had finished their 'preparations' and were ready to set off in half an hour or so. Plenty of time for Lovino to hide in Alfred's car.

He darted around the back of the house, being careful to keep away from any windows so no one inside would notice him. The garages were in the shadow of a group of oak trees nearby, about fifty metres away from his current position. It was a squat concrete building that somehow managed to pull off being on the edge of a classy garden. Lovino headed away from the house, circumnavigating a large group of leafy rhododendrons planted helpfully his way...

...and whacked straight into Feliks coming around the mask of a large bush. Damn it all. He hadn't expected to run into anyone, and he wasn't sure he could come up with justifiable stories if they pressed him for what he was doing. But then again, it was Feliks. He wasn't likely to be suspicious. Even if he was sneaking around the back of the house when he shouldn't be.

Lovino stepped back, rubbing his nose from where the two had collided. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, sounding rather more hostile than he intended, but he was more than nervous about what he was doing.

"Uh, I, like, fancied a bit of fresh air," Feliks lied. He wasn't comfortable in deceiving his friend, but he couldn't risk Lovino telling anyone what he was up to. "What are you doing?"

Lovino scowled. All this and now he had to think on his feet. "The tomato bastard told me to check if the car was ok. So I'm going to the damn garage. Got a problem with that?"

He saw Feliks flinch visibly at the sharp words, and a few seconds later, the blond shook his head. "No. Uh...I'm...just going back inside anyway." He blinked his large green eyes nervously, then turned tail and headed back to the house.

Lovino waited for him to disappear around the corner, then let out a quiet sigh of relief. That had been a bit too close.

Now, to hide. He slipped around the side of the house, towards Arthur's spacious garages. Using the main doors would be too obvious, so Lovino opted for the smaller side door and, after a minute of picking at it with an odd piece of metal, unlocked it.

Inside lay a miniature fleet of cars. There was a small blue Mazda with blinds over the windows, a Toyota with its oily guts spilled out over a dozen sheets of newspaper, an unobtrusive silver hatchback parked next to a motorbike and, after Lovino nosed under it, a gleaming black Rolls-Royce hidden under a protective sheet.

And, at the end of the line, was Alfred's giant black 4x4, which Lovino had watched the others preparing earlier. At the time, he'd wondered how it was economical to run such a car when this post-apocalyptic world was suffering a fuel shortage, but it appeared that Arthur had a large supply of everything, including petrol, which was in an underground tank tapped by a pump much like at any ordinary garage. Damn secluded rich guys. Lovino scowled again and discontentedly muttered half a dozen curses.

Looking over the car, and since they'd already packed, Lovino guessed that the boot would be the best place to hide. They wouldn't look in there again before they got there, but they'd easily find him once they were. And then, he was in. Action, responsibility and excitement, for once in his life. Well, discounting parts of the last two weeks for the action part of it, at any rate.

Lucky for him, the carefree – and careless – Alfred had left the car unlocked, and the boot opened easily at Lovino's touch. The container space was full, but far from packed, with a couple of rifles leant against the window, a case of ammo underneath them. Obviously this 'diplomatic' mission wasn't going to be as diplomatic as intended if negotiations broke down. Two boxes of something he neither knew nor cared about squatted next to three logo-covered backpacks.

Lovino shifted aside a case of something-or-other to create a space big enough for him to crouch in that wasn't so small as to crush him, and crawled into the boot.

Reaching out a hand, he grasped the door to the boot and pulled it shut, sealing him in the vehicle with an echoing bang, followed by a reverberating ominous silence.

Lovino sat in his corner of the boot, suddenly nervous of the situation he'd put himself in. Now he was shut in it, the car smelled unpleasantly of hamburgers, and, the gourmet Italian was rather pissed off at having to endure such an odour for hours. At the very least, it'd stick to his clothes.

But the important thing was, he was in and hidden. Only a few hours of driving to go. Pulling a sheet of khaki canvas over himself to prevent a quick glance-over revealing him, Lovino decided to take an early siesta and closed his eyes.

XxxxX

Feliks wandered around the back of Arthur's garden for half an hour after he encountered Lovino, to give the Italian time to check the car and leave. Getting caught trying to hide was really going to kill his plans.

He settled down by an algae-covered pond, glad of the seclusion from the house. A couple of birds twittered in the foliage around him, and there were even a couple of late-blooming roses running around a tree that scented the air with a delicious and refreshing smell that couldn't help relaxing Feliks, although the tension of what he was about to do couldn't be shaken completely from his mind.

Once the hands of his pink-strapped watch hit twenty to the hour, Feliks leapt up. Meeting Lovino had really delayed him, and there were only twenty minutes left before the group were due to set off. Feliks darted through the plants, brushing aside branch after branch, save for one which managed to catch him in the side of the head. After checking to see if there was any blood – which there wasn't – Feliks ran up to the garage and in through the paint-flecked side door, which, to his surprise, was unlocked. Everyone must have been too busy to keep the cars locked up.

Dusty windows made the light shining inside seem almost artificial and some of the cars inside were far from showroom quality, and Feliks felt more than out of place for the hundredth time that week. But there was only one thing he was interested in at the moment, and that was the large black Jeep sat at the other end of the garage.

He crept across the asphalt floor, not quite sure why he was creeping when there was no one else around. At a guess, it either was the sheer suspense of never having done anything like this before, or just to maintain the atmosphere of sneaking around places. It was like a movie, and movies always had happy endings, so Feliks was reassured.

Now it was just a matter of how to conceal himself until they arrived at Ivan's. Not the boot, that was for sure. Alfred or someone would check in there before they left, and then the game would be up. So where was it possible to hide? The back was ever worse than the boot, and the front had the engine in it. Feliks tapped one foot, mentally searching through all the movie scenarios he'd ever seen for a solution. And, true to form, an answer came to him within a minute. Hide under the chassis. But, was it possible? In movies, you didn't get engine heat or friction burns or sharp pointy bits of metal poking you in the sides.

Feliks glanced around, wondering, when he spotted Arthur's motorbike leathers splayed across a workbench. Perfect. Completely unstylish and they clashed awfully with his top, but perfect for what he was about to do. He shrugged on the thick jacket, grateful for Arthur's slim frame, for it fitted well, and followed it with the black padded gloves.

Trying not to look at his mismatched reflection in the bodywork of the nearby cars, Feliks ran back to the 4x4 and knelt down by its side. Alfred, thankfully, had a liking for large, off-road wheels, even when he lived in a city, which created a large gap between the ground and the smooth concrete of the floor that was more than big enough for Feliks to slide through and flip over to face the bottom of the engine. He didn't want to be facing the ground. All that high-speed ground flashing by him – he'd most likely be sick.

Feliks lay on the ground under the car with his hands hooked around a couple of pipes, ready for when everyone else turned up. As soon as the engine was turned on, he'd pull his arms up around the pipes for a more secure grip, and then hang on like his life depended on it until they stopped.

_Thank God we're not due to drive through, like, any cactus patches,_ he thought to himself. _That'd, like, totally suck. _

* * *

><p>Ah, damn. It's been ages since I've updated this. Got too distracted with Pokémon and writing Land Beyond Dreams. Apologies.<br>Good news though. Action be happening in the next chapter. (It's about time) :P Oh yes.


	29. Chapter 29

The rumbling engine of the black 4x4 cut dead in a deserted field three and a half hours from Arthur's house. Sharp afternoon sunlight glinted off the dusty paintwork and dulled chrome fittings. Tall, unkempt trees at the edge of a wood bordered the field nearby, leaves rustling ominously in the silent breeze. Even though there was nothing else around for miles, the air was tightrope-tense and chilled the throat.

Slowly, Antonio stepped out of the backseat and stretched luxuriously, like a tired cat. "_Ay_, _Dios mio, _am I stiff. I'm really not used to long car journeys." He shook himself briefly, allowing his muscles a brief moment of respite after their hours of stiff motionlessness.

"Cars rock," Alfred grinned, spinning the keys around his index finger. "Anyway, let's get going. We've gotta go talk to Braginski, and there's still a li'l bit of a walk left. Pop the trunk, guys."

"_Quoi?_" Francis replied in puzzlement. He had no idea of what the American had just said.

Antonio laughed. "He means open the back up, Fran." The Spaniard walked round the side of the car and pressed his thumb to the large silver button, opening the heavy back lid of the car effortlessly. Light streamed into the back, reflecting off the shining chrome of weaponry, the metal fastenings on cases of supplies...

...and the dark chocolate curl springing from the head of the boy crouched in the back. Golden-brown eyes locked onto Antonio's emerald pair, as if to say '_what are you going to do about it?' _

The breath vanished from Antonio's lungs as if he'd taken a blow to the windpipe. "_Mierda! _Lovi, what in the blazes are you doing here?" he gasped, jumping backwards in shock. Fear shot through his heart like a lightning bolt. Lovino couldn't be here; he said he wouldn't. Antonio couldn't stand him getting hurt.

"Huh?" Like a flash, Alfred and Francis were next to him, staring with matching expressions of disbelief at the unveiled Italian.

Alfred peered at Lovino curiously, like he was a mildly confusing television programme he'd lost the plot of. "Dude, what're you doin' in the trunk? Doncha know we're on a dangerous mission here?"

Lovino rolled his eyes and climbed out, landing sprightly on the dull green grass. "Duh. You're not leaving me out, damn it."

"We might have to," Francis said, frowning in worry. "It's too dangerous for you to come with us."

Alfred twisted his face in a pained grimace, obviously thinking hard about the situation and not liking it. "Bad news dudes, but it's even more dangerous for him ta stay here. He'll be alone, for one thing, as we can't spare one of us to stay. Alone and unarmed, too. To cap it off, alone, unarmed and in the middle of nowhere in a suspicious vehicle, only half a mile away from a hostile location. If we leave him the keys, and he drives away to escape if someone comes, we've lost our way back. But if we lock him in, he's imprisoned, and completely screwed if something happens, like one of Ivan's patrols turns up off course. So, we've no choice but to take him with. It's a diplomatic mission anyway, so there shouldn't be any conflict, even if we don't reach a resolution. Unfortunately, you get your wish, Lovino." The American scuffed the ground with one boot, clearly annoyed.

Dread was settling through Antonio's body at the fastest rate he'd known. He'd only just realised the extent of his feelings for the young Italian, and the prospect of losing him was unbearable. Especially if he was the one responsible for it. He wouldn't be able to live with himself. But he couldn't tell the others that, not now. Antonio pulled his phone out, sighing, and turned it on. "At the very least, we're letting your grandfather know you're here. You can't just hide in the car and leave without telling anyone."

"I thought that was the point," Lovino scowled, folding his arms and giving the three a pointed glare.

Antonio disregarded this comment, watching his phone's screen light up. "Hmm. Three missed calls, all from Romulus' number. You've been missed, Lovi." Antonio put the phone to his ear and waited.

A voice answered almost on the first ring. "_Antonio? Good, you got back to me." _

"Hi, Romulus. Yeah, I noticed you'd called. I presume this is about Lovi?"

Romulus sounded to be suppressing anger, his voice taut and stressed. "_So he is there, is he? I told the little bastard he wasn't allowed to go and he deliberately disobeyed me!" _

"Sorry. We didn't know he was in the car until a couple minutes ago – he was hiding in the boot and we never thought to check before we left because we ended the preparations hours ago and locked everything up."

"_Typical,"_ Romulus growled. "_Tell him to wait in the car. He's not going anywhere." _

Antonio bit his lip before answering, afraid of the explosion that was quite possibly going to follow. "Er, sorry, but Lovi's got to come with us. It's not safe, being left in the open by himself. And this is a diplomatic mission, it should be safe."

"_That's irrelevant. I don't want him to get hurt – he's just a kid."_ Lovino protested loudly upon hearing this – he was listening to the conversation with much interest – but Antonio ignored him.

"I promise I won't let anything happen to him, alright? He'll be safe with us – Alfred knows what he's doing."

"_I doubt that very much when it comes to international super-criminals. You better make good on that promise, Antonio."_ And with an almost resentful click, the phone went dead.

Antonio sighed. This made everything so much more complicated. Not only would he have to protect himself from a psychopathic criminal whom he'd tangled with before, but he'd also have to protect Lovino. All alongside their mission's original diplomatic objectives, and looking for Feliks' friend. It was a veritable nightmare, and Antonio wished the situation was at least slightly different. But they had no choice but to live and work with it now. Hopefully Lovino could handle himself well enough in a crisis.

So the four, wordlessly, resentfully, started the walk across the field to the large black building poking out from behind a shield of trees.

XxxxX

"Oww!" Feliks moaned, unclenching his screaming muscles as soon as the other four had walked out of earshot and dropping heavily to the dry ground. "This is, like, the worst pain ever. Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow! AHH! Fuck this hurts." It wasn't in Feliks' nature to swear much, but over two hundred minutes of clinging to the underside of a car had left his limbs feeling like they'd just lost a fight with a sledgehammer.

His eyelids felt almost as bad, due to the fact that he'd spent most of the drive with his eyes screwed tight shut. The sight of the ground constantly flashing past less than a foot away had made him feel first sick and then absolutely terrified. The road hadn't even been visible as a road – it had just been one continuous blur of colour. The car had to have been going at at least a hundred miles an hour, probably more, from the pace that the road had been disappearing at. It had been a incessant reminder of the fact that if he was to let go, Feliks would be condemning himself to a prolonged and painful death by tarmac and metal. And it had been this thought that kept his muscles tightly wound around the car when in other situations he would have let go long before from sheer exhaustion and pain.

But his limbs had obviously gotten too used to their previous position, and as soon as Feliks tried standing up after scrambling out from under the car, his legs committed mutiny and collapsed underneath him, sending him heavily to the floor. He spat out a mouthful of dry grass and tried moving, to no avail. His muscles had seized up and were unresponsive to any stimulus his brain tried to prompt them with. After several fruitless attempts to pull himself even into a sitting position, Feliks gave up and decided to give himself a few minutes to relax and recover, while he thought about what the situation was now that he was here.

What he couldn't deny as the biggest surprise of the day, though, was that Lovino had had the same idea he had and had obviously concealed himself in the car before Feliks did, all without anyone knowing. Although Lovino, unlike Feliks, had gotten discovered almost immediately once they'd arrived. It made Feliks feel kind of smart, being proven right. He'd thought that the boot was far too obvious to hide in, and that was precisely why he hadn't chosen it. But, lucky Lovino had got taken along with the others inside the complex, so Feliks didn't know whether he had actually drawn the short straw or not. He'd just been too shell-shocked and witless to reveal himself at that point. They'd seemed pretty mad that Lovino had turned up, after all.

Feliks, still from his face-down vantage point in the grass, sighed, sending a puff of fine dirt into his eyes and immediately regretting the wistful action as his eyes stung painfully. Although he wasn't entirely sure of what he was in for, he did have a basic plan of action. For the moment, at least, he'd wait. That would give Alfred and the others a chance to distract Ivan and his goons, then Feliks was free to sneak inside the place without getting discovered. Relaxed for a second, Feliks allowed his mind to wander with imaginary scenarios of how he would heroically swoop in and save Toris, and how grateful Toris would be. It really was like a movie, this was. He could see it now; cigar-chomping mercenaries, looming hallways, sniper towers. And, at the bottom of the compound, in a dark cell, would be Toris, frightened and alone, pining only for his beloved Feliks. Who would promptly break open the door using an ingenious plan, pull Toris into a sweet kiss, then escape the place with an epic car chase.

It was when the sun eventually began to touch the horizon, perhaps half an hour later, than Feliks had had enough of the tense, stomach-turning waiting and forced himself to his feet. The field was flatter than a desert, and twice as barren, with the wilting grass devoid of all life. If there were birds in the cluster of trees at the field's edge, they had been intimidated into silence by the prospect of what lay just over half a mile away. Feliks had to agree with them. Running unarmed into a fortress of gangsters wouldn't usually be high on his list of priorities. Feliks wasn't a fighter, and his skinny frame wasn't built for conflict even if his mind had been. But he knew he had to go in there if he wanted to see Toris alive again. And that thought was enough to drive away the fear, for now.

As he stretched out, suppressing a moan, he caught sight of himself in the vehicle's shiny paintwork and jumped a full six inches in the air, shocked. His previously spotless blond hair was now a windswept tangle, knotted and pulled in all directions by the turbulence of the journey. His face had fared no better, and was covered in dirt and dust of all kinds. There were also several spatters of blood across it from where tiny stones had nicked his skin; he must have been too petrified to notice the pain over the top of his limbs' complaints. Feliks sighed again and attempted fruitlessly to wipe the grime off with his fingers, resulting only in smearing his face with oil from where his gloves had been gripping the car. He cursed to himself, pulled the gloves off and wiped his face again. This time, the result was better, but now his hands were filthy as well and the cuts on his face stung from where they had been disturbed. He really wasn't doing well.

Deciding to keep the leathers on for the moment – they may come in useful, and he couldn't look worse than he already did – Feliks realised it was best to stop procrastinating and move before he got discovered. Wincing at the dull ache that was inhabiting his muscles at every hint of motion, he set off across the field, the same way that the other four had followed earlier.

XxxxX

Alfred, Francis, Antonio and Lovino had been greeted at the imposing gates of the compound by three stony-faced Russian guards, and led through freezing hallways and winding corridors into the main building's centre. Ivan had been waiting for them in a wooden-panelled meeting room. It was decorated rather more casually than its purpose would suggest, with plump sofas and a coffee table loaded with refreshments, the latter of which Alfred had immediately attacked with gusto. At a guess, it was the Russian's attempt at hospitality. Exchanges had initially been polite, but as discussions progressed, conversation became considerably more icy and stilted. Evidently the two enemies weren't about to become best friends just yet, but then, no one had been expecting that to begin with.

And Antonio was more than unnerved by the turn of events. Things couldn't go bad now. Not with Lovino here. If nothing else, he had to get out with Lovino intact.

Following the declaration of Alfred's terms, there had been a long and tense silence in the room. The Russian had stayed motionless on the other sofa, watching them through glacial violet eyes above his steepled fingers.

Suddenly, Ivan let out a high, carefree laugh. "You understand, don't you, that I cannot agree to your terms, _da_? I don't particularly want to stop with my plans. Plus, I don't see how you can stop me. You come here and ask me to give in because otherwise I will regret it, but all I see is a big bluff."

"There are a lot of things that you don't know, Braginski," Alfred replied. His tone was calm, but the knuckles of the hands resting on his lap were white and the muscles under his eyes were almost unnoticeably tensed and twitching. He'd gone through things the way he and Arthur had discussed them, but the Russian was not responding as anyone had predicted. Maybe he was mad, maybe just cocky, but Alfred wasn't calm about where things were leading now.

Ivan chuckled again. "Maybe so. But there's one thing I do know, you see." He stood up, still with that frosty, mad, yet somehow happy expression, and regarded the four from his elevated height. "I do not negotiate. You are gullible, Alfred Jones, in thinking that, and you fell perfectly into my trap. You made a mistake in coming here tonight. I will paint my walls with your blood."

The doors to the room opened with a series of bangs and a battalion of black-clad men emerged, each one carrying a large automatic weapon. Ivan reached inside his jacket and drew a pistol of his own, a cold and confident smile on his face.

"_Izvinite_, but none of you will leave this house alive."

Antonio felt Lovino tense beside him, and noticed his petrified expression. He understood the younger's thoughts; he wasn't used to confrontation, and this possibility of death would render him frozen, frightened and useless. For half a second, each of the men in the room was completely still, watching as to who would make the first move.

Then Alfred pulled his gun out from his bomber jacket and began firing randomly into the air towards the Russians. "Run dudes!" he yelled, vaulting over the back of the sofa and flattening himself behind it as bullets began flying across the room. Francis produced his own gun and shot the men in front of one of the doors.

"Go!" he shouted urgently, diving down next to Alfred behind the relative shielding of the sofa.

Antonio lost no time in grabbing Lovino's hand and dragging him out of the room into the dark corridor beyond. He had to get him out, whatever the cost. Urgent footsteps behind them showed that they were being followed, and gunshots were the only other audible sound. Antonio let go of Lovino's hand, letting the Italian run ahead slightly and pulled a gun out of the waistband of his jeans, immediately firing back down the corridor at the pursuing Russians.

The men faltered slightly but they kept running. Bullets hissed past, some just centimetres from the escaping pair. Less than a metre away, a Ming vase shattered into a million pieces and ceramic dust sprayed the air behind them.

Lovino, with Antonio hot on his heels, burst through a door into a broad hallway area lined with half-a-dozen identical doors. He stopped, uncertain about which direction led to the exit. He'd gotten lost within two minutes of arriving, and the place was a maze.

"That way!" Antonio yelled, pointing wildly. Lovino nodded, breathless, and ran, but then something small and green tapped him on the boot and he looked down in fright to see a grenade rolling about on the floor. It exploded in a cloud of impenetrable grey smoke and Lovino lost all vision, his nose burning with smoke and ashes as he coughed in a desperate attempt to breathe. Blindly he ran on, slamming through the door he'd seen Antonio point at. Wood slid past his fingers as the door gave way, and for a second he thought he was going to get away.

Then the floor unexpectedly vanished, and Lovino's footing disappeared from under him. His stomach collided with his throat as he crashed down a flight of stairs, mind spinning in fear and shock. The smoke in his vision disappeared, replaced by spinning stars and pain. His head stabbed and his arms ached. For an awful moment, neither his mind nor lungs would work and he lay motionless in panic, gasping for breath through the pain.

But the shouting and banging from the top of the staircase reminded him that, while this pain was bad, if he didn't leave now it would get a lot worse. Someone, several someones by the sounds of it, were following down the stairs, which meant that he and Antonio still were being pursued. Slowly, painfully, he dragged himself to his feet and stumbled down the corridor of the compound's basement, hoping to God that it wasn't a dead end.

The air tasted moist down here, and strange substances dripped ominously from the ceiling into slippery puddles on the floor. Dim blue light shone from flickering tubes, occasionally blacking out entirely and plunging the corridor into terrifying darkness. Every step was agony and Lovino felt like he was about to be sick.

After what felt like an age, after the only sound he could hear was that of his own footsteps, Lovino ducked into a dark alcove, panting for breath. Surely he'd lost them by now. "Oi, bastard. D'you think they're gone?" he panted, looking about for a second opinion from his Spanish companion.

Upon hearing only his own frantic breathing, Lovino realised with absolute horror that Antonio was gone.

* * *

><p>Yup, I've finally reached a point in this story where some actual action happens!<br>And will continue to happen.

_Izvinite_ means 'Sorry' in Russian, as far as I believe. Phonetic spelling, of course.


	30. Chapter 30

**Nope, this story's not dead! I just wasn't really sure what was happening, and then got distracted writing other things.  
>Translations are at the bottom. <strong>

* * *

><p>"<em>On ne mozhet bytʹ daleko<em>," called out a deep voice. Lovino jumped. So he hadn't lost them after all.

"There he is!" another voice yelled, and out of the corner of his eye Lovino could see half-a-dozen black-clad minions, their faces concealed by balaclavas. Several of them were brandishing guns and were starting to aim upon sighting their prey.

Lovino yelped and sprinted away, oblivious to where he was going as cold concrete walls and sharp corners flashed past. All he wanted was to get away from these men, to get out of this dark, dank basement and be free again. To think he'd wanted a bit of excitement and responsibility when he snuck out here. Well, now he was responsible for his own life and his very freedom was on the line. _Think I've had rather too much excitement for one goddamned lifetime. Stupid Spanish bastard, abandoning me in a place like this. And to think I thought he cared. Bastard. _

But the sounds of gunshots and footsteps were getting closer all the time. It was a miracle he hadn't been shot already. If only he was able to stop them somehow.

Almost too late Lovino remembered the Beretta concealed in the inside pocket of his jacket. He ripped open the zip and pulled the gun out, almost losing it out of his sweaty, fumbling fingers. The gun bucked in his grip as he began firing desperately behind him. There were several immediate and shocked howls as his bullets found their mark.

"Watch out! The little slimeball's armed!" the voice shouted again, this time reverting back to English. This was followed swiftly by an anguished cry as a bullet hit its owner. With a victorious grin, Lovino whipped around a corner, knocking over a pile of chemical storage drums in an effort to slow his pursuers further.

He risked a quick glance behind him and saw three gangsters still following. Aiming his Beretta again, he pulled the trigger, sending the walls and one of the men exploding in a shock of plaster, cement and blood. Unconcerned, the two remaining men leapt over their fallen colleague and continued with their pursuit.

Spurred on by his improving marksmanship, Lovino stopped and spun round, pointing his gun at the men.

"See you in hell, bastards!" he yelled, pulling the trigger again. But, instead of blasting his enemies away, the gun let out only a hollow clicking. Terror clenched Lovino's heart as he realised he was out of ammunition. The men grinned and advanced again, sniggering through clenched yellow teeth. Drawing a petrified breath, Lovino turned again and fled as fast as he could, thankful for his quick feet and reasonable fitness. Italian blood was helpful in many situations. But fitness couldn't save him forever. His pursuers were highly trained and the basement floor was a complete maze. He couldn't even find a place to hide for a few seconds, let alone a staircase that lead to freedom. Survival was an increasingly faint light at the end of an ever-lengthening tunnel.

Lovino darted down another increasingly dank corridor, breath drawing sharp and painful up his throat. The footsteps thudded behind him, echoing off the walls. They were still getting closer, probably only behind the previous corner. He was completely defenseless and rapidly running out of energy. His legs were screaming agony, and the bruises he must have sustained from his staircase tumble were beginning to poke holes in his rational thought with persistent barbs of pain.

"Psst! Over here!" a sudden voice cried out from nearby, startling him out of his remaining wits.

Lovino's head whipped around as he stalled, trying to source the unexpected voice. A green eye poked out of a crack in a door a few feet ahead.

"Come on!" the voice said urgently. "If you want to live, get in here!"

His pursuers ever closer, Lovino didn't see that he had a choice. He ran forward and ducked behind the door, which the mysterious stranger quickly shut behind him. Wherever he was now plunged into complete darkness. He held his breath, heart pounding shockwaves through his body.

Thunderous noises and shouting sounded outside the door as his pursuers rounded the corner and closed in, and he couldn't help tensing as he listening to the sounds with every fibre of his body. Slowly, the footsteps began to away as the men chased a now non-existent prey down the corridor. Flooded with relief, Lovino's trembling legs gave way and he collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath.

"Are you alright?" the disembodied voice of his rescuer enquired. He had a curious accent, some sort of Eastern European. Probably Russian, knowing the company he was keeping here already.

"Yeah, now I am," Lovino panted through jumping breaths. "Those bastards were out to kill me." The world was disoriented; he was still in slight disbelief at his close escape. The room seemed to be spinning, although since there was still no light, it was all the more nauseating. He was still struggling to breathe, and pain was beginning to gnaw at his muscles, even though they were no longer in use. His legs felt like half-melted jelly.

"Mr Braginski rarely will show mercy to his enemies," the voice agreed. "It is probably best you wait here until the coast is clear." There was a short pause. "Are you sure you're alright?" The voice moved across the room, accompanied by quiet footsteps. Lovino's eyes darted about and he silently cursed the fact that he couldn't see. With the adrenaline still running high through his system, he was still expecting an attack at any moment, and there was no guarantee that this man was a friend. It was possible he had just walked into an even worse death-trap than the one he'd just escaped. There was more painful ways for life to end than by a bullet, and most of them meant involuntary betrayal of his family and friends.

There was a brief click, making Lovino jump, then a bright, burning light sparked into life. Lovino shut his eyes, temporarily blinded. After a few seconds, he cautiously opened one eye and found a watery forty-watt glow flowing through the room, emanating from a bare lightbulb dangling off a cord from a bare ceiling. It was a small storage room, perhaps only four metres square, with label-less boxes lining shelves against the far side, and cold breezeblocks the only wall-covering.

The owner of the friendly voice turned out to be a young man stood by the light switch. He was maybe a year or two older than Lovino was, with floppy shoulder-length brown hair and a kind smile. His eyes were green, not a familiar forest green like Antonio's; more of a lighter spring green, yet still vaguely reassuring. But his faded green jacket was grubby and ragged around the edges, and there were dark circles under his eyes, a clear indicator that Lovino wasn't the only one who'd been finding things rough recently.

He knelt down next to Lovino, eyebrows raised in concern. "Try to breathe deeply, and don't think too much for the moment. You've just got out of a taxing situation, it's ok to be a bit panicked."

"I'm not…fucking…panicked," Lovino tried his best to growl, but through a dry throat and panted breaths, the words were less than convincing. He _was _slightly panicked, but that was just a side-effect of the adrenaline. And he certainly wasn't about to admit his distress to a complete stranger, especially one he'd met in a hostile location, and unfortunately seemed to owe his life to. It never hurt to keep information to oneself.

"Ok," the other smiled sympathetically, as if trying to understand Lovino's point of view. "Just keep breathing, though. You're not in danger anymore, at least not for the moment."

"Not for the moment? The fuck?" Lovino scowled. To his annoyance, the man's advice seemed to be working, and he felt himself begin to calm down a little. Not that he wasn't on edge still.

"You're not working with us," Lovino noted suspiciously, staring into the man's tired emerald eyes. "And we don't have any allies, so you must be working for Ivan. Why are you helping me?"

The other sighed sadly, regretfully. "'Working for' is putting my situation rather loosely. I am rather stuck here; Ivan kidnapped me shortly after he set off the missiles, and I am unable to leave. He has armed guards around the perimeter, you see. Going out weaponless is far too risky."

"If you're stuck, how d'you expect me to get out then, damn it?" Lovino was beginning to realise he wasn't quite out of the woods yet, even if he had acquired an unexpected ally. Albeit one he didn't quite trust. His second question hadn't got answered yet, after all. Evidently there was some sort of ulterior motive.

"A few friends of mine and I have come up with some ideas. However, most of them are a bit haphazard, as none of us are really tacticians, and we're not sure if they'll work, especially with our limited capabilities. None of us are particularly good marksmen, for one thing. You see, one of the best plans that we have come up with requires weaponry to escape. You seem like a fairly good shot, from what I heard back there. If we can provide you with ammunition, there's a way out for all of us."

Lovino frowned. "Plans. Right. So you're expecting to come with me?"

The other nodded. "Yes, that would be nice. It is rather hellish here. Plus, there is somewhere I was supposed to be a while ago, and an important promise I need to fulfill." The final traces of happiness had disappeared from his face at this, and he just looked lost and ashamed.

"Huh," Lovino answered, unsure of how to properly respond. He'd never been good at dealing with other people's emotions, save for anger. He sat up slightly and fiddled with the safety catch of his empty and useless Beretta, just for his hands to have something to do. The still-fading adrenaline rush was making him restless.

The stranger checked his watch nervously. "We'll need to be here for about two hours, to allow the heat of whatever you were just involved in to die down. After that we'll go to meet my friends, Eduard and Raivis, and go through the plan, as they don't really know that you're here, or that you'll help us. The change of guard is at ten o'clock, and we'll need to be ready by then. It's ten to seven now, so at the moment its a matter of killing time."

"Yay," Lovino muttered sarcastically. Things seemed to be moving way too fast at the moment; all he really wanted was a few minutes to catch his breath and come to terms with just how much trouble he was in. One minute he was trying to get a bit of adventure for himself, then he was being shot at by psychopathic Russian gangsters, and now a stranger working for the other side was trying to help him escape. It was all rather impossible for his brain to comprehend. He wondered to himself if he would ever see his family and Antonio again, trapped like this. How many times had he narrowly avoided death in the last ten minutes? It was mind-shattering. Part of him just wished he'd fallen asleep in the boot of Alfred's car, and in a few minutes Antonio would wake him up and it was all just an awful dream. What was amusing, if it could be called that, was that the guy was assuming that Lovino would help, even though he'd committed to nothing. Although, if Lovino thought about it, suicidal escape plans with a stranger were preferable to torture and death.

The brown-haired guy sat down and settled against the back shelf. "You came here with Alfred Jones and his friends, didn't you? I haven't seen you with them before."

"No," Lovino said shortly. The room was refusing to stay still again, and it was making him nervous and irritable.

"Are you sure you're alright?" The other was looking at him with that concerned expression again.

Lovino shut his eyes and leant back against the cold wall, shuddering slightly at the dramatic contrast in temperature, although it was relieving. "Yes, damn it. Just...just give me a minute." Slowly, the stars in front of his vision receded and he began to calm down. He opened his eyes again and let out a relieved breath.

The other man smiled at him and sat back against the shelving on the far wall. "Ok now?"

Lovino nodded.

"Good. It'd be a bit hard for you to receive medical attention in here if you were hurt badly. But you've got quite a while to recover now, so don't worry."

"Mmm," Lovino agreed quietly.

"By the way, if you don't mind me asking, what is your name?" It was an oddly normal question in this craziest of circumstances.

Lovino looked up, unsure whether to answer with the truth or not. But, like it or not, the man had saved his life, so he guessed he was trustworthy until he found evidence otherwise. "Oh. It's Lovino. Lovino Vargas."

"Ah, so I guess you're Italian? I've heard it's nice there. I'm Lithuanian, myself."

"'K," Lovino replied vaguely. "What d'you go by? Or am I not allowed to know that?"

The Lithuanian laughed nervously. "Not at all. If we're fighting for the same end, there's little cause for secrecy. It'll just cause unnecessary divides. My name's Toris Laurinaitis."

Lovino jumped as if hit by lightning as the name struck a chord in his memory. "What?"

The other – Toris – drew back slightly, worry flickering across his face. "I'm sorry? Did I say something wrong?"

"No..." Lovino muttered slowly. So this was Toris Laurinaitis. The guy Feliks had been looking for, with no leads. And he'd just found him, through random coincidence. Lovino couldn't believe it. He wasn't what Lovino had been expecting, though. After everything Feliks had been saying, Lovino had been expecting Toris to be some kind of God incarnate with an Adonis body. But now, Toris just looked like an ordinary nervous-looking guy in his late teens or possibly very early twenties. Kind of jumpy, kind of wistful, but quiet and sympathetic, at a guess. He seemed to be quite a contrast to Feliks, although perhaps it was a complementing one.

Nevertheless, he had to be sure. "You don't happen to know a guy called Feliks Łukasiewicz, do you?" he asked hesitantly.

Toris gasped and leant forward, hardly daring to hope. "You know Feliks?"

Lovino nodded as he was proven correct. "Yeah. We met a couple days after the missile attacks, and he's helping us with all this stuff."

"And he's ok?" Despite his obvious exhaustion, there was a sudden bright light in Toris' eyes.

"Well, yeah, but he's a bit pissed at you. You keep blanking his damn calls. Oh yeah, and you didn't meet him when you said you would," Lovino replied with his characteristic bluntness.

Toris sighed and rested his head against his knees. "He would be, wouldn't he? I should have done something; told him when I had the chance. He's going to hate me, and I wouldn't blame him. But as long as he's safe. That's what matters."

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "You don't care if he hates you? That's one of the oddest perspectives I've heard, and I live with my brother."

"Well, I do care," Toris looked up again and smiled wryly. "But I would rather he was safe and hated me than died loving me."

Lovino frowned slightly. He wasn't quite sure what to make of this selfless attitude "You guys are, you know, together, aren't you? It's kinda obvious from anyone who's met Feliks."

"Yeah. We've been going out since lower sixth - since we were sixteen. It's been about two and a half years, maybe a bit more. Feliks tends to be the one who keeps count. We're probably not the first people you'd pair together, but it really seems to work between us." Toris had a content, almost dreamy smile on his face when talking about Feliks.

Lovino didn't reply. For some reason, he kept thinking of Antonio.

"That's why I'd like to get out as soon as possible. It's been weeks since I've seen him, and I really miss him. I really need to apologise for not being there like I said I would."

"Hmmph. To be honest, I don't think he'd care. As long as you come back, he seems like the type who'd be happy. Operative part being 'coming back'. What is happening with us getting out of this place anyway, damn it?" Now that he seemed to be relatively safe, Lovino's normal attitude was beginning to return.

Toris checked his watch again. "It's five past seven now. So we've got an hour and forty minutes to kill here before we should go find Eduard and Raivis. It's a bit dangerous out there, you see, and it's best to wait till things die down after that shoot-out."

"Great. Just damn great," Lovino groaned. Looked like he had to escape death by boredom too. At least he had someone to talk to. Whoop-de-fucking-do.

XxxxX

By the time he'd covered the distance to the compound, Feliks' bravado had faded, to be replaced by a fear that was beginning to bite his insides. He was crouched in the middle of a bush about fifty feet from the walls, with leaves in his hair and sharp branches poking unforgivingly at his already aching limbs. Despite his discomfort and uncertainty, he was fairly glad – he'd been lucky to find this spot without being noticed by the guards that lined the wall and the binocular-wielding snipers in the tall towers mounted at each corner. Then again, this section had been accessible only by trailing under thorn bushes and through twelve feet of thick mud that was six inches deep, and it had taken ages. Feliks' shoes were ruined, and his trousers weren't faring much better. Mud squelched unpleasantly in his socks and between his toes, making him cringe.

It was almost dark now, too, although the floodlighting around the compound meant that it didn't matter too much out here, except for the long shadows cast where the walls blocked the streams of light. Well, it didn't matter, apart from the fact that the darkness, combined with the deadly patrols, evil gangsters and his captured boyfriend, creeped the hell out Feliks.

The building itself was enormous, for one thing, a mountain of black stone and faded bricks, dotted with tiny windows reminiscent of a prison. That wasn't a helpful thought. Feliks didn't want to end up a prisoner here. He wasn't likely to see Toris if they were locked up at opposite ends of a giant, inescapable dungeon. And with all the guards around, it was pretty likely that Feliks was going to get spotted without some kind of invisibility cloak. A slight-built teenager, sprayed with dust and mud and dressed in a combination of motorbike leathers, tattered blue jeans and slim-fit trainers was going to stick out like a sore thumb. Any guard worth his money would spot him a mile off and riddle him full of bullets before he could have a chance to duck. He'd have to find a way to make himself fit in a bit more. Perhaps steal a guard's uniform and pose as one of those to find his way into the inevitable dungeon where Toris probably was. His Russian wasn't atrocious; it would probably be a while before anyone would suspect him of being an impostor as opposed to a new guy.

But to do that, he had to get over the wall, and that was patrolled by armed guards too. How many minions did this guy have? At this rate, he'd get shot before he'd even come out from behind the bush. And that would completely suck.

Ok, so he didn't have any weapons, so he couldn't take out the guards from here. And he wasn't much good at hand-to-hand combat, so he couldn't drop in on them and kick all their asses before they could even reach for their guns. There didn't look to be a little drain or hole that he could sneak through into a ventilation system. And at a guess, gangster-types wouldn't fall for the 'chuck a rock and sneak around while the guards are distracted' trick. Feliks was beginning to feel rather helpless, not to mention useless. Nothing had ever begun to prepare him for breaking into massive fortresses, or knocking out guards, or anything that was actually needing to be useful.

There was a sudden burst of gunfire from the other side of the compound, making Feliks jump. The guards at the top of the gate were on the move, shouting urgently and cocking their guns as they ran. Feliks couldn't believe his luck. Here was a way in, looking him right in the face, and it was no longer guarded. Something – whatever had activated all that gunfire – was causing a bigger uproar than the guards directive to hold their posts. But Feliks didn't think much about that, aside from briefly hoping the gunfire wasn't aimed at his friends.

Feliks gritted his teeth in determination, instantly regretting the action as he tasted oil, and snuck out of his hiding place. Now his only problem was how to get over the wall – three metres of thick stone was hardly built for climbing, even if Feliks was good at it. There weren't even any handy trees nearby for him to climb. Whoever had designed this place did _not _have the feelings of any trespassers in mind. This certainly wasn't anything like the movies. In the movies, there was always a tree nearby, or a sturdy vine growing up the wall, or the hero had brought a grappling hook. Feliks had never thought to bring a bag full of useful stuff, or even a bag at all. All he had was the contents of his pockets – his phone, a slightly-used tissue, his wallet, two hairclips, half a pack of sweets that he'd swiped from the kitchen, and the grime-coated gloves that had grown too hot for his hands. Not exactly the prepared-for-anything equipment of a potential intruder.

All out of ideas, he ran up to the wall and desperately jumped, hoping that his hands would somehow find purchase on the stone, somewhere that he could use as leverage to climb. His fingers raked the stone, burning slightly with friction. To his surprise, and a minute later, delight, his foot contacted something on the fourth or fifth jump and he fell to the floor as a result of the disruption. His ankle twinged as it twisted slightly against the ground, but Feliks didn't care. Quickly, he picked himself up, and looked at where he'd just been jumping. Sure enough, there was a brick sticking out about half a metre up from the floor. It wasn't out of line by more than an inch, and it was lucky that Feliks' foot had even found it at all, but again Feliks didn't care. It was a way up, or at least the start of one. He braced the side of his foot against the makeshift hold, unsure about how well it would keep him steady, and balanced against the wall.

Unfortunately, the top was still almost a metre above his head, and Feliks cursed. Did everything have to be against him? Heroic adventures were setting very high standards by making everything easy for the protagonist. It wasn't fair. But he was running out of time and ideas, and resorted to making further desperate lunges at the top of the wall from his elevated height. Once his fingers started complaining at the constant scrapings, he pulled out the gloves again for a bit more protection and continued.

But it seemed, for the moment, that luck was with him, and one jump managed to end up with one hand grasping the edge of the wall. His already tortured muscles were screaming at him again as they were once more forced to bear more weight than they were used to, and it was all Feliks could do not to let go. _If I ever get out of this, I'm totally going to start weight training. Anything to, like stop this _przeklęty _pain. _But through some adrenaline-driven burst of desperation, he threw his second hand up, caught the wall, and pulled himself over the edge.

A sudden surge of pain erupted across his left arm, and Feliks glanced down in alarm to see that he'd caught himself on the barbed wire that was concealed beneath the lip of the wall. The barb had bitten straight through the leather jacket and the cut beneath was streaming blood, quickly covering the sleeve in the red liquid. Feliks bit his lip to stop himself from crying aloud. He'd always been squeamish, and the sight of his own blood pouring down his arm was enough to make his stomach churn. His head span, panic once again threatening to rise.

But again, instinct to survive took over, and he realised he had to get out of here before the guards came back, or at least find a safe place to hide. Clasping one hand over the wound, with no thought for infection from the grime on his gloves, he sprinted down a nearby staircase which was miraculously still guard-free. At the bottom, the black-drenched room was as deserted and cold as a desert at night and, to Feliks' horror, the door was guarded by a coded digital lock, squatting like a toad above the handle.

He couldn't go back up, he'd get spotted for sure. But his only way out of here was blocked. Feliks looked about desperately, perhaps for somewhere to hide until someone else opened the door. Then he could sneak out behind them, maybe.

There was a large fusebox off to his left. It was easily big enough to hide in, but its door was padlocked, presumably to prevent anyone screwing with the lights. The shadow of the stairwell could conceal him under a cursory glance, but if the guards were on the lookout, they'd check there and find him. The only other place that would fit him was a large box on wheels, somewhat like a dumpster, but smaller and more sanitary-looking. It was covered in Cyrillic characters that were too dark to read. Feliks cursed; he was rapidly running out of options.

Footsteps on the staircase above almost scared him out of his skin. Feliks made a split-second decision and chose the box, pulling the plastic lid open and scrambling haphazardly inside. He landed painfully on a bunch of small metal objects – he couldn't tell what – which set off a startlingly loud series of clinking noises.

"What was that?" a gruff voice said in Russian a few feet above him, instantly confirming his fears.

"What was what?" growled a second voice, who sounded like a KGB officer out of a spy film.

"A noise. I heard somethin'. Like someone janglin' their keys. Then a weird snap."

Feliks shut his eyes and held his breath, muttering a silent prayer that they wouldn't search the place. He was utterly trapped now, with only a layer of plastic between him and bullet-ridden death.

Second Voice replied promptly, "You're hearing shit, idiot. There wasn't a noise. C'mon, we've got to go get the vehicles and see if we can track down that guy who just got over the wall. He's shot, he won't get far. And the boss'll have our asses on the line if we don't make up for the lapse in security." There was a series of bleeping noises to accompany these words, then a click.

"Whatever. But I'm tellin' ya, I heard somethin'." The first voice was followed by a noise which was clearly a door opening.

"Shut up," Second Voice replied, then the room went deadly silent again as the door closed with an ominous _boom_.

Feliks let out a sigh of relief. Safe, for the meantime. Either he had some kind of guardian angel, or the last few minutes were making up for all the moments of bad luck he'd ever had previously. But, on the downside, he'd been too shell-shocked to try getting out the door, which was back to being as impenetrable as ever. There was no way he'd be able to break the code, and Feliks wasn't exactly the most tech-savvy of people as it was. For the moment, he was best off remaining still in this box until he could think of a way out. He was less likely to be discovered if he was hiding.

This was scary, though. Quite probably the scariest thing Feliks had known, and in the past few weeks he'd seen towns blow up, been knocked out and kidnapped, and hung upside-down on the undercarriage of a moving vehicle. At any moment, he could be found out. But it was worth the risk. Inside that building, only fifty metres from where Feliks was lying right now, was Toris. And Feliks was certain that he was going to find him soon. Then it was simply a matter of stealing a car and driving the hell away from here, back to safety. He wondered where Toris would be, and what Braginski would have done. Would he be locked at the back of a cell, alone and scared, but unharmed? Or – and Feliks didn't like to think of this possibility – would he have been hurt? Did Braginski have him for a reason, maybe something to do with Alfred? How much of this didn't he know yet?

Some fifteen minutes later, his contemplation was cut short by further footsteps on the stairs, and Feliks once again paused his breathing. There were more people than before, it sounded, but their voices were too muffled to hear this time. Feliks just waited, hoping that they would pass by like the previous pair.

But the footsteps stopped right next to his hiding place, and Feliks' heart almost stopped there and then as the box began to move slowly forward.

_Fuck, I'm totally screwed_, Feliks thought in panic, wondering where he was being taken, and if anyone knew if he was inside or not.

The strange metal objects around Feliks rattled constantly, knocking against the walls of the container, and against Feliks' wounds. But he daredn't cry out. If he hadn't been discovered yet, making a loud noise would certainly give him away.

It seemed like eternity before the movement stopped and the deafening noise in his ears returned to just the gentle hum of the guards' voices nearby. He had no idea where he was now. He could have been wheeled back out of the compound, rendering all his efforts useless, or he could now be right at the building's heart. Or worse – he could be sat in an incinerator, waiting for a man to pull the lever to send a box full of rubbish to oblivion. He couldn't know, not knowing what the container he was in was for. All he could do was wait. Wait and hope.

Inside of the box, the petrified Feliks lay stock-still, almost too scared to breathe. The voices nearby – although still muffled by the plastic – were getting fainter. Feliks waited until he couldn't hear anything more, then shut his eyes and silently counted to a hundred. Tentatively, he sat up and gently opened the top a crack, thankful that it didn't have catches or locks on the outside. Through the inch or so of gap that he could see through, he quickly discovered that he was once again alone, although now he was inside the dangerous establishment, instead of outside it with a way home. The box looked to have been deposited in a room full of similar boxes, with only a tiny window near the ceiling allowing a thin sliver of moonlight in.

But the quiet and solitude calmed Feliks slightly; there was less chance of getting discovered if there wasn't anyone else around. With renewed energy, he clambered out of the box and landed heavily on the floor, his battered limbs moaning sorrowfully as they were further subjected to movement. His left arm especially was agony. It had been twinging in the background all the way from the wall, but the recent movement had set the pain off again. Thankfully, it had stopped bleeding sometime between the break-in and now, but the torn jacket was matted with blood, as was part of his shirt where the arm had been resting a few minutes ago. Feliks tried flexing it experimentally, but was rewarded only with a searing pain as the arm refused to move past the elbow. He dropped it to his side, fearful that there was something badly wrong with it, but knowing there was nothing he could do. He couldn't go up to the guards and say, _'Hey, I just cut my arm as I was breaking in uninvited. Do you guys, like, have a bandage I could borrow?'_

Feliks scowled. This sucked. Completely. But he was in this up to his neck already, and worrying about his dead arm wasn't going to help him find Toris. He was the phoenix, after all. If they tried hurting him, knocking him down, then he'd just get back up, stronger than before, and show all them that they were going to lose. He wasn't sure how much longer he could carry on, but he was damned well going to try.

He walked over to the door, gingerly poking his head outside to check for hostiles. Finding none, he picked a direction at random and headed down the corridor. The floor was bare formica, blank and downmarket, and the bare walls stared blankly at him. But there were plenty of dark spot, corners, and objects to hide behind, and Feliks quickly found use for them on the occasions when he heard footsteps or spotted a black-clad figure. The corridors were a maze, and most looked alike, Feliks quickly realised, condemning himself lost within five minutes. He had even less of an idea where Toris might be. The only thing he had been able to figure out was that he was on the first floor of the building, as one of the windows showed him a view out with the ground several metres below.

But Feliks continued regardless, even though the constant aching in his limbs was beginning to sap his strength and prevent him from thinking straight. It was almost like a strange delirium. Everything was becoming a distraction, and nothing seemed to be a clue as to where either the bad guys or Toris were.

There was a strange black hemisphere on the ceiling in front of him, with a little red light on it. Feliks peered at it curiously, wondering what it was. Probably some sort of alarm, but why it was in the middle of the ceiling was beyond him. The plastic it was made from was mostly reflective, and Feliks let out a brief moment of immaturity by pulling a face at it. Giggling to himself, he kept going, wondering why there were so few people around for a world-dominating _mafiya _compound.

The corridors continued endlessly, and Feliks couldn't find anywhere that looked like it was for holding people. He'd given up on trying to open doors, as most were locked, and those that weren't held nothing of value. It was still ominously silent, and Feliks could only hear his own footsteps ringing in his ears. They probably weren't too loud, but they sounded deafening to him.

Eventually, he found a staircase at the end of a sterile-white hallway, but to his disappointment there were no signs anywhere. Down would lead either to the ground floor, or to a basement of some kind. The latter was most likely where Toris would be, but Feliks couldn't help thinking that Braginski would be more sneaky than that. But, even though that was most likely where the leaders were, up was more likely to get him trapped somewhere.

Something cold and sharp touched the side of his throat and Feliks froze, suddenly terrified.

"You know what this is?" asked a harsh female voice from behind him in cold Russian tones, confirming his worst fear.

Feliks nodded, neither trusting himself nor daring to speak. The sharpness at his throat was evidently a knife, and the wrong word was likely to lead to his death. Girl or not, whoever was on the other end of the knife wasn't going to be afraid to slit his throat. _Great going, głupi,_ he chided himself with the last of his rational thoughts. _Getting captured is totally going to save Liet. _Panic was rapidly rising in his mind, clouding any possible plans to make an attempt to save himself. His breathing was rapid and shallow.

"Good. Then I won't have to tell you what will happen if you do not follow my instructions. Now put your hands behind your head and walk forward, keeping a slow pace, and make no move to escape. We do not take kindly to intruders here." The knife dug into his neck slightly, threatening to nick the skin. "Now move. Down the stairs to your left. And if I suspect you aren't obeying me, then I won't hesitate to kill you."

* * *

><p><em>On ne mozhet bytʹ daleko<em> _– _He can't be far (Russian)

_przeklęty_ – damn (adj.) (Polish)

_głupi_ – idiot (Polish)

A result of Google Translate, so mistakes aren't entirely my fault.

Yay for more cliffhangers.

Erratic updates will still be erratic, but hopefully less than however-stupidly-long it was between chapter 29 and this. *fail*


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